


Nightingale's Song

by NightmareWalker



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, I want this ship, Why doesn't it exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7265875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightmareWalker/pseuds/NightmareWalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Nightingale never could have foretold the horrible tragedy that occurred at the Conclave.  She never could have imagined that anyone would have survived the explosion, either, let alone a woman with the singular ability to close the terrible rifts that threatened their very existence.  A woman who vexed her endlessly and somehow made her feel more alive than she could recall.  Prompt inside, rated mature for language, violence, and implied sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Schnarf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schnarf/gifts).



> ‘What about something with a female inquisitor and Leliana? It’s a shame you can’t romance her in DAI, and I haven’t seen many fics with this pairing.’
> 
> Thank you for the prompt, Schnarf, and thanks for making me post over here, too!

The pair of horses blew hard in the cold autumnal air, hooves pounding across the packed road toward the smoke billowing in the distance that was cast in an eerie green glow by the enormous tear in the sky behind it. 

“Faster, Cassandra!”  The rider up front sunk lower over her horse’s withers, giving the stallion his head so he would gallop faster.  The hood covering her eyes flew back in the chill wind, revealing disheveled red hair, shorn short and decorated with a couple thin braids.  She peered back over her shoulder at her companion and said, “We must get there soon!”

“We will injure our mounts if we do not slow down, Leliana!”

“But there may yet be others alive, Cassandra!” 

Cassandra, clad in her armor bearing the Eye of Truth, urged her own mare up alongside Leliana and said over the pounding of hooves, “And if we run our horses into the ground now, we will take that much longer to reach the Conclave!  See reason, Leliana!” 

Leliana reluctantly reined in her stallion, pulling his mouth in close to his chest when he tried to wrestle the bit back and their horses blew hard through their noses to catch their breath, steam billowing in the air.  “We are only a couple hours out from Haven; only a few days after negotiations were to begin,” Cassandra said, sitting easily atop her mare.  “It could very well be a fire for the soldiers, Leliana.”

“But I _know_ it is not, Cassandra.  No campfire smokes that much, that darkly.”  The Left Hand pointed at the smoke billowing toward the sky for emphasis.  “And what is that thing in the sky behind it; it is not natural, I can tell you that much, Cassandra!”

“We will find out the truth, Leliana, only have a little patience.  Come, we near the road to Haven.”  They rode up the incline and came upon groups of soldiers and pilgrims alike, disoriented and covered in soot and blood. 

“What has happened here,” Cassandra asked a Templar, reining in her horse as she whinnied and gave a little jump sideways. 

“Seeker Pentaghast, what are – you yet live?  Thank the Maker, it is – it is chaos!  The Conclave is in ruins, the Divine dead!-”  The Templar’s voice broke and he knelt heavily in the snow, taking a knee and praying fervently. 

Beside her, Cassandra heard Leliana inhale sharply and turned in the saddle to find the redhead urging her stallion up the hill.  “Leliana!”  Cassandra followed her past the Chantry, up the steep mountain trail to the Temple of Sacred Ashes –

“Maker, _no_.”

– only to find that where the Temple had once stood, only smoking ruins and the disturbing green glow remained, the skeletal remains of humans frozen in various poses of fear.  Leliana sobbed in heartbreak and slid off her mount, stumbling toward the wasteland that had housed the Conclave, and the last hope of reconciliation between the mages, Templars, and the Chantry. 

“Leliana…”  Cassandra slowly dismounted, watching with tormented eyes as her counterpart fell to her knees in the dust and snow and rubble, shoulders shaking with sobs. 

“No, no, not – not _her_ , not the Divine, _please, Maker, no._ ” 

Cassandra knelt behind Leliana, pulling her back against her breastplate and hooking her chin over her shoulder.  “It will be alright.”

“ _How?_ How will _anything_ be alright _again?_ ” 

Leliana cried harder and Cassandra pulled her closer, whispering to her quietly as she fought back her own tears as she stared at the carnage.  “Who would do such a thing?  Maker, is this a test?”

~~~~~~

 Cassandra watched Leliana pore endlessly over the maps laid out across the table inside the tent they’d taken over as the center of operations in the aftermath of the explosion.  Her face was stoic, expression perfectly vacant in the wake of the tears she shed earlier with only a faint rim of red lingering around her eyes.  Cassandra listened to the bustle of people walking purposefully outside the thin canvas, shifting on her feet as she watched her friend’s shoulders tense with each clang of metal clashing and shout from soldiers and wounded alike as they shuffled past the tent.  The Seeker whirled when the canvas flap was yanked back and had half drawn her sword when she realized it was a scout standing in the open door, eying her warily. 

“Apologies, ser.  I have a message for Sister Nightingale.” 

Cassandra nodded and let him pass, watching the scout hand over a hastily rolled scroll and press his fist over his heart before leaving them alone once more.  Leliana scanned the note and Cassandra felt a thrill run down her spine.  The Left Hand, normally unflappable even in the most unusual and perilous of situations, was quickly losing what little color she had regained since finding the Temple in ruins, her hands shaking subtly as her breath came faster.  “Leliana?”

“Someone is alive…”

“What?”

“ _Someone lived!_   Cassandra, a woman _survived_ the explosion!  She could have answers!  They have taken her to the dungeons beneath the Chantry and are waiting for her to wake.  Another scout will inform us when she has regained consciousness.”  Leliana returned her attention to the maps at her back, but Cassandra could see she was distracted by the way she fidgeted and shuffled on her feet restlessly. 

Several hours passed before the tent flap was thrown back, admitting a burst of chilly air and another scout who told them the woman had come to and they were awaiting their arrival to question her.  Leliana swept excitedly from the tent with Cassandra trailing in her wake, trying to rein in her cautious hope as they neared the doors of the Chantry.  A guard stood at the stairs leading down into the dungeon, nodding at them as they passed and descended into the cold, stone gloom.  Despite the torches set in sconces at regular intervals on the walls, the area still seemed dark and dank, and Cassandra shuddered as her gaze slid over the cobwebbed corners and shadowed alcoves.  Before her, Leliana strode silently along the damp stones; hood pulled up for both anonymity and warmth and gloved arms swinging at her sides purposefully. 

Two more guards stood at attention at the end of the corridor, facing ahead with visors lowered as the Hands approached the cells.  Cassandra nodded at them when they passed, pausing when she saw the half dozen armed warriors standing, weapons drawn and pointed at the figure kneeling on the hard ground in the middle of the ring of people.  Long, chestnut hair thrown into disarray, scratched and dented armor, quaking shoulders and arms, a quiet grunt as green sparked at fingertips and biceps flexed uncomfortably; Cassandra noticed all of that in the moments after her eyes alighted upon the woman – prisoner? – kneeling on the straw strewn stone.  She was certain Leliana noticed far more, watched as the redhead began circling the woman silently, keen eyes observing every twitch and movement she made.  As Leliana prowled around her, the soldiers withdrew their weapons and stood at attention in a loose ring, wary, tired eyes following the Left Hand silently. 

Cassandra felt her temper rise as the woman refused to lift her head and stormed into the ring, grabbing her chin roughly and forcing her head back.  “How did you survive,” she asked vehemently, taking in the sunken hazel eyes that had trouble focusing on her, the long, narrow scar that cleft her eyebrow in two and disappeared into her hairline, marked by a shock of white hair at her temple.  “How did you get _this?_ ”  She grabbed her manacled hands and lifted them above the woman’s head, watching with fascination as her left one sparked with green light and the woman screamed, tendons standing out sharply beneath the skin of her throat as her fingers clenched convulsively. 

The woman wrenched her hands away with surprising strength and cradled them close to her chest, glaring up at Cassandra balefully.  “I do not know what you are bloody talking about!”  Her voice was rough with pain, although somehow retaining a cultured edge that hinted at some education. 

Cassandra curled her lip in disbelief.  “I do not believe you.  Did you plan this, this massacre, and somehow get caught up in the aftermath of your own plot?  _What did you do?_ ”  She got right into the woman’s face and reared back suddenly when a wad of bloody spit landed on her cheek, swinging her hand back to deliver a punishing slap when her wrist was caught in slim fingers. 

“Cassandra, calm yourself.  Becoming violent will solve nothing.”  Cassandra’s nostrils flared but she forced her muscles to loosen and lowered her arm, sneering at the woman’s superior expression as her hand was stayed and the redhead strode past her to crouch before the prisoner.  Leliana took her jaw in hand and tilted her head aside to peer at the myriad wounds dotting the side of her face and throat.  “You are injured.”

“I had not noticed,” came the flippant reply and Leliana smiled a little. 

“No one has tended to your wounds?”

“Obviously not, they are too afraid I might bite, m’lady.”  The woman grinned in a feral manner, bearing prominent eyeteeth and bloodstained gums before spitting bloody mucus off to the side.

“Oooh, such manners!  May I enquire as to your name, ser?”  Leliana delivered her lines quietly, coyly batting her lashes as the woman eyed her curiously. 

“Only if you give me yours as well.”

“Very well.  You first, ser.”

“I am Ser Quinn Trevelyan, Guard Captain of the city of Ostwick, formerly knight initiate of the Templar Order, and general bastard of House Trevelyan.”

“Trevelyan?  One of the more powerful noble houses in the Free Marches, no?”

“And the most pious, if the rumors are to be believed.  Although, personally, the last time I invoked Andraste’s or the Maker’s name, it was in a decidedly _un_ holy manner.”  Quinn grinned coquettishly, although the effect was somewhat ruined by the blood smeared across her teeth. 

Behind her, Leliana heard Cassandra snort in disgust and hid her own amusement behind a stern façade.  “Quite the contradiction, are you not?”

“What can I say?”  Quinn shrugged and winced briefly, catching Leliana’s eyes.  “Living in the barracks amongst the guards, one grows immune to the mens’ many…shall I say, _eccentricities_ , and learns more than one would think.  Besides, I was long disenchanted with the Chantry’s narrow view of the world.”

“How dare you!  To set foot in this holy place and blaspheme-”

“Peace, Cassandra.”  Leliana tossed a look over her shoulder at the Seeker, who crossed her arms and frowned mightily at the woman kneeling before them.  She returned her attention to Quinn, who had watched the interaction with interest flaring in her eyes. 

“I did not have much choice, did I, now?  Last thing I remember, I was freezing my arse off in one of those tents down the hill, waiting to start the blighted Conclave, then I come to with this pain in my hand like someone set pokers under my skin and these lovely gents sticking their swords in places they don’t belong.”  She wriggled her eyebrows humorously, snickering when Cassandra grunted again.

“Ah, yes, and now we return to the crux of the issue at hand.”  Leliana ignored the innuendo and stood, staring down at the woman with keen eyes.  “You say you do not remember what happened, yet have somehow – _miraculously_ , might I add – survived an explosion that killed everyone in the immediate area of the Temple.”  Her brows lowered dangerously, as did her voice, and her words cut like daggers.  “You bear a mark with an uncanny resemblance to the breach in the sky, one that is spilling forth demons of every sort as we speak, you have _no_ defense for yourself, you have _no_ alibi, _no_ way to prove yourself innocent…one could assume you were guilty and merely, what do the guards say, _lying out your ass_.” 

By the end, Leliana was snarling, her face twisted with rage and helplessness, and had reached for Quinn’s breastplate, lifting her bodily to her feet so they stood toe to toe.  The woman’s head lolled as a sense of vertigo washed over her and bit her tongue when Leliana shook her roughly, legs shaking and threatening to give out on her.  “Do _not_ _dare_ pass out on me.  Answer my questions!”

“Afraid…afraid there was not one…m’lady.” 

Quinn’s eyes rolled back until Cassandra stepped forward and slapped her cheek none too gently.  “Do not play stupid, Trevelyan!  Why did you do this, why kill the Divine and sabotage the Conclave; to what end did you do this thing?”

“Already said I did not…”  Quinn’s legs gave out and she collapsed unceremoniously to the stones, barely catching herself on her hands and knees before crying out as the mark sparked a poisonous green and curling into herself as much as her battered armor would allow.  “I do not rem…remember what happened, I…I swear it.”

“And why would we believe your word?  Why would we trust you?” 

Cassandra’s hand cut through the air as surely as any weapon, her words piercing the haze that had lowered over Quinn’s mind.  She muzzily raised her head, tear tracks staining her cheeks as she glared up at the Seeker with bloodshot hazel eyes.  “I _do not_ lie, Ser.  Despite my…my family’s somewhat…dubious morals, I do not…lie to get my way.”  She slowly uncurled herself and knelt again, back defiantly straight as she swayed unsteadily.  Her skin an alarmingly pale tone, she nonetheless pressed her palms against the stone and pushed herself to her feet, nearly toppling over before gaining her feet entirely. 

Cassandra and Leliana both took a step back when they realized just how tall the woman was, how imposing she looked even trembling and wan.  Her armor, though dented and irreparably damaged, added bulk and heft to her otherwise lanky frame.  Her bound hands clenched rhythmically and a muscle ticked in her jaw as she stared her captors down boldly.  “If you want to make me your scapegoat, then say it to my face, ser.  Otherwise, I demand you release me and return to me my weapons.” 

Cassandra gaped, astounded at her audacity, and Leliana chuckled.  “Fine,” she said lowly, “you want release?”  She stepped into Quinn’s personal space, going toe to toe with the tall woman.  “Prove your innocence.”  Her words washed across Quinn’s chin and the brunette tilted her head down to meet vibrant blue eyes that sparked threateningly.  The redhead turned on her heel and silently swept out of the cells, her hood fluttering in the wake of her retreat. 

“Hey, you never told me your name!” 

Cassandra stepped into her line of sight and yanked her forward, pulling her out of the cells and up the stairs into the Chantry proper.  “Regardless of what we think or _you_ say, the others that were not in the immediate area of the explosion have decided your guilt.  They _need_ someone to blame for this…this senseless act,” Quinn’s ears perked when she heard Cassandra’s voice hitch, “and you are the one they have accused.”  Her eyes watched the bystanders they passed warily, catching the sneers and expressions of rage, distrust, sorrow that filled their faces. 

More than a few people cursed her and made to approach her but were headed off by Cassandra, who kept a hand on the hilt of her weapon as they approached the gates that opened to a path that meandered up the mountainside.  Cassandra stopped just outside the gates of Haven and turned to face Quinn, pulling a dagger from behind her back and approaching the woman.  Quinn tensed as the knife flashed, reflecting the sickly luminescence of the sky, and heard metal scraping together as it nicked her bracer.  “I do not know what to expect up there, but I will not have you bound and helpless like a pig to be slaughtered.  Stay with me.”

“As you say.”

~~~~~~

“…ugh, fuck, my head…”

“You know, for a noblewoman, you have a very crude tongue.” 

Quinn’s eyes snapped open and she lurched upright, regretting the action immediately as her head swam and her stomach threatened to empty itself.  She found a bucket sitting beside the bed and threw up into it, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand when the heaving stopped.  A damp rag was passed over her brow and she shut her eyes as it cooled her overheated skin, finding a cup of water pressed to her lips which she greedily drank.  “Who?...”

“Do not tell me you have forgotten my name already, Ser Trevelyan.”  The playful, sultry, accented voice gave rise to new sensations that whirled madly in her stomach and upset her equilibrium again.  She opened her eyes to stare up at the alluring redhead from the dungeon, still dressed in her confining hood and leather gauntlets that covered every inch of skin other than her face. 

A coy smile flitted across her unpainted lips and Quinn felt her ire rise at the memory of her treatment when last they spoke.  “You never gave it to me, if you recall.  What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on your condition; you fell ill after your interaction with the breach and the herbalist was worried you would not wake.  How do you feel?” 

Quinn eyed Leliana balefully, gingerly sitting upright and grimacing as her head spun sickeningly and a headache began throbbing behind her eyes.  “Why do you care?  You seemed perfectly content with me possibly dying, why bother pretending you give a damn now?”

“Do not mistake my callousness the other day for uncaring, Ser.  I…”  Leliana paused, looking sheepish as she ducked her head, and the short strands of hair framing her face fell forward.  “I apologize for my actions then; I was distraught over the death of the Divine.  I know it is not a reasonable explanation, but it is the only one I have to give you, unfortunately.  My companion, Cassandra, has been…less than happy with me these past three days, I am afraid.” 

Despite her anger, Quinn felt forgiveness stir in her chest at the remorseful look in blue eyes.  She sighed, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose to try and alleviate the heavy pressure pounding beneath her skull, and stiffened when she felt cloth cover her hand gently. 

“Let me, it is the least I can do.”  With a mistrustful glance up at the redhead, Quinn lowered her hand and felt her begin to carefully massage her temple.  “My name is Leliana, by the way.” 

Quinn hummed in acknowledgment and they sat in silence for many long minutes afterward, Quinn’s eyes gradually closing as the pressure was relieved and her head leaning into the soothing touch with a grateful hum.  She felt gloved fingers brush against the scar on her temple and snorted as it lingered, prying open her eyes to see a question clear in Leliana’s eyes.  “My second year after becoming a guard, I drew night watch and was careless out on patrol.  Some petty thieves were scaling a house in the upper quarter and we engaged them,” she spoke quietly, eyes half closed in memory as Leliana continued drawing soothing circles on her skin.  “I was not watching my back, paid for it with a blade against my skin.  They thought I had lost the eye at first, felt like it, too, for a few weeks afterward.  It was a near thing, but I was so _pissed_ with the bastard that I put him down with my bare fists.” 

Leliana drew one last swirl on her temple, then stepped back and held her hands out, smirking when Quinn raised a brow curiously.  “Come, Cassandra has asked for your attendance at a meeting.  Unless you do not feel up to the task, of course.  I am sure I could tell them you are not feeling well eno-”

“No need to do that, I am fine.”  Quinn swung her legs over the edge of the bed and braced her hands on the mattress, waiting for the dizziness to pass before attempting to stand.  She stumbled as she rose and Leliana’s hands gripped her biceps, holding her steady as she got her bearings. 

“Yes, you are quite fine indeed.”  Leliana’s tone was teasing as she waited for Quinn to straighten and stared up at her, realizing again that her nose just barely reached the warrior’s chin, and the simple homespun tunic and trousers didn’t take away from her impressive stature and musculature even after several days’ convalescence.  “Do you feel well enough to go to the Chantry and speak with everyone?”

“Do I really have a choice?”  Quinn sounded slightly winded after the minimal movement but strode toward the door and pulled on her soft soled leather boots, leaning against the wall for stability and watching Leliana sway toward her.  “Lead the way.” 

They slowly walked toward the Chantry and Leliana watched out of the corner of her eye as Quinn was approached and venerated by those who were gathered on the path.  She seemed slightly overwhelmed by the attention, shoulders stiff and gait wooden – although that could have been because of her lingering weakness, Leliana supposed – as they approached the Chantry doors.  Once inside the relatively sparsely populated building, her stance relaxed and she met Leliana’s eyes.  “I see that people remain fickle as ever.” 

Leliana smiled wryly and opened her mouth to reply when they were interrupted by a man in robes who stalked up to them, Cassandra on his heels with a perturbed expression on her face.  “ _You!_   Why is this woman not bound?  I demand she be put in chains and readied to travel to Val Royeaux for trial!”  He pointed pompously at Quinn, directing his order at the guards stationed at the doors behind them, and gawked when neither moved.  “Are you deaf as well as stupid, you armored louts?  Arrest her-” 

He squeaked unimpressively when Quinn stepped into his personal space and loomed overhead, a scowl carved into her features that made her look stern and fearsome.  “You _do not_ speak to your men that way, ser.  I do not know who you think you are-”

“I am Chancellor Roder-”

“I do not give a rat’s arse if you are the fucking Maker’s _arsewiper,_ you do not address your men-at-arms with anything less than complete respect, or you are liable to be facing them in a far less forgiving environment.  Do you understand me?”  Her voice lowered until she was hissing, leaning in to the chancellor’s face until they were nose to nose.  Her hazel eyes burned into his with dark promise; the threat apparent without her raising her voice or a hand against the man.  Roderick paled and sputtered incoherently before turning on his heel and stalking away without another word, and Quinn sighed quietly as she straightened again, swaying slightly on her feet. 

Cassandra, having barely moved so Roderick didn’t brush against her, strode forward and caught her forearm in her grasp.  “Are you alright?”

“I am fine, let’s go.” 

Quinn’s jaw tightened as she walked past the Seeker, neither noticing that Leliana was behind them, features frozen at the warrior’s audacity.  She shook herself and trailed after them, shutting the heavy door behind her once inside the room they had commandeered as a War Room.  She took her place at the head of the table, Cassandra and Quinn on her right, the latter studying the maps strewn across the large table with interest, while a man and woman stood on the other side of the table at her left, watching the warrior with interest blatant on their faces. 

“Ser Trevelyan?”  Quinn’s head bobbed in acknowledgment, although her eyes never left the pieces that littered the maps.  “I would like to introduce the other members of the Inquisition, if I could drag your attention away from the maps for a moment?” 

Quinn yanked her gaze away from the table and met Leliana’s eyes.  “My apologies.” 

Leliana dipped her head and then gestured across the table.  “May I introduce Ser Cullen Rutherford, former Templar of the Ferelden Circle at Lake Calenhad, former Knight-Captain of the city of Kirkwall, and our Commander of the forces of the Inquisition, such as they are.”

“Well met, Ser Trevelyan.  I have heard of your escapades as guard captain of Ostwick; quite a reputation you have earned there.”

“Yes, well, with seventeen years service and an unfortunately prominent family name, I have seen more than my share of odd and, shall I say, _colorful_ things, and I am sure my reputation has been grossly exaggerated, Ser Rutherford.” 

Cullen chuckled and the woman to his left stepped forward, extending her hand in invitation.  “Since Leliana is not feeling particularly well mannered today, I suppose I must introduce myself.  I am Lady Josephine Montilyet, ambassador for the Inquisition and political liaison to whatever allies we make.” 

Her richly accented voice and charming smile made Quinn soften slightly, and she took Josephine’s hand in hers and kissed the back of it chivalrously.  “It is a pleasure, Lady Montilyet, to be in such company as yours.” 

To her side, she heard Cassandra snort disdainfully, and Leliana stalled the retort on the warrior’s tongue.  “You know Cassandra and I, of course, but our dear Seeker Pentaghast could use a more thorough introduction, I think.”

“Leliana, do not _dare-_ ” 

Leliana’s dismissive wave made Cassandra visibly bristle and Quinn bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the murderously uncomfortable expression that covered the Seeker’s face.  “Ser Trevelyan, may I present Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast, Seeker of Truth, Hero of Orlais, and Right Hand of Divine Justinia.”  The playful glint in Leliana’s eyes was marred by the hitch in her voice when she mentioned the Divine’s name. 

Cassandra rounded on Leliana with a snarl on her lips and jabbed her finger against the table pointedly.  “You _know_ I _detest_ that name, Leliana!”

“This is why I insist on using it at formal functions, Cassandra,” Leliana said, humor dancing in her eyes, “as it is such an entertaining response you have toward it!  One might wonder if you have something against such a title…”  She tapped a finger against her chin, staring Cassandra down fearlessly, and Quinn raised her brow at Josephine in question.  The ambassador shrugged, smiling softly, and Cullen sighed, shifting his weight to his other foot as the stare down continued. 

Quinn broke the stalemate by tapping her fingertips against the maps, drawing their eyes away from each other and toward her.  “Not that that wasn’t positively entertaining, but there seems to be one introduction we lack yet.  You,” she stepped away from the table and approached Leliana, circling her with long strides and meeting the redhead’s secretive smile with one of her own, “have yet to introduce yourself to me beyond more than a first name.”

“Perhaps I enjoy maintaining an air of secrecy, Ser Trevelyan.”

“Nonetheless, let me see if I can eke out any of them.”  Quinn made another circle around Leliana under the watchful stares of the others, sweeping her gaze up and down her frame deliberately before coming to a stop before her, hip cocked to the side and arms crossed over her chest.  Leliana stared up at her with an inscrutable expression, hands clasped behind her back and hood casting part of her face into shadow.  Quinn smiled and winked at the redhead, and Leliana felt her face heat with an uncharacteristic feeling of flattery.  “A beautiful, mysterious woman, who wanders the village with her hood up and gauntlets on at all hours of the day, who speaks in riddles and half truths, who is, oppositely, ruthless and charming between the span of two heartbeats. 

“A woman who seems dually self-confident and uncertain of everything, who leaves nothing to chance if she can help it.  And one who, if I could venture to guess, is hiding at least a couple blades beneath the lovely leather work of her gauntlets,” Quinn said, relishing in the surprise that flitted across Leliana’s face before being covered with a rueful smile.  “Might I venture correctly, Leliana?”

“You may indeed.  I am the Inquisition’s spymaster and lead the scouts that travel ahead of the body of the troops led to fight.  As a formality, I ask that outside of these walls and our present company, you address me as Sister Nightingale, Ser Trevelyan.  You understand that I must maintain a certain amount of…mystique, in my position here, of course.”

“I can agree to those terms, _if_ you cease calling me Ser Trevelyan among our present company.  I had enough of that in Ostwick amongst the sniveling nobles.” 

Leliana’s eyes twinkled as she bowed a little at the waist.  “As you wish, Your Grace.”

“Thank – _what?_ ” 

Leliana looked positively wicked and, behind her, Quinn heard Josephine chuckle.  The ambassador tapped her on the shoulder with her quill.  “Since your victory at the Temple, the people have taken to calling you the Herald of Andraste; we can use this to our advantage to gain allies and resources to further our cause.”

“But what does that have to do with _anything else?_ ”

“As a term of respect,” Josephine began carefully, watching Quinn’s expression closely, “the people will address you as Herald or Your Grace, among other honorifics.” 

Quinn’s eyes rounded and she waved her hands through the air.  “No, no, no, that will _not_ happen.  I will not allow-”

“And how will you stop it, hm?”  Leliana touched Quinn’s shoulder to regain her attention, one red brow arched.  “They have been calling you such since you passed out; the moniker is already so ingrained that it would be next to impossible to change at this point.  I am afraid you are stuck with it, _Your Grace._ ” 

Quinn growled and dragged a hand through her hair, tangling it further than it had been before.  “Fine, _fine_ , whatever.  Let us move on, then.  What have we got?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh, thank the Maker!”  Quinn urged her tired horse faster along the trail, her eyes brightening as the walls of Haven came into view.  “C’mon, you lagging nugs!  Last one back has to feed and water the horses!”

“No fair, Inky, not all of us have leggy critters!”  Quinn laughed as Sera’s indignant retort was lost on the wind, nudging her mare to canter lazily to the gates.  She paused briefly, lifting her visor to bare her face to the sentries standing guard, and rode through the gates as soon as they opened, her companions fast on her tail. 

“I will catch you, Herald!”

“Fat chance with that pony you ride, Varric!”  Quinn leaned lower over her mare’s withers and let her take the bit in her mouth, laughing as she felt the powerful muscles bunch and propel them forward even faster. 

By the time she pulled her horse to a stop in front of the stables and dismounted, they were both breathing hard and sweaty.  “What a good girl you are, c’mon, I’m sure the horsemaster has some oats for such a good girl.  Thank you for carrying me so far.”  She led her mare at a slow walk into her stall and patted her nose as one of the stable boys wiped her down and set her feed in the manger.  Quinn left her horse in their capable hands and watched the last of their men straggle through the gates, glad that for once there were no bodies draped over the pack animals at the back. 

She walked into the village proper, pausing for a moment to listen to the bustle of commerce taking place by the walls, soldiers training on the field nearby, the call of the ravens Leliana employed to relay her missives.  “I should go see our dear spymaster, actually,” she said to herself, eying the meat roasting on a spit nearby with envy, “talk with her about the message she sent me so I can eat at _some_ point today.”  Her stomach growled in agreement and Quinn set off toward the Chantry, leaving her helmet on to afford her some measure of anonymity.  Her recognizable zweihander – a two handed weapon with a haft nearly a foot long that afforded her greater power behind her swings and a blade nearly a yard long, with a wide crossguard that could trap other blades between the twining metal –  remained half hidden beneath her cloak so only the pommel was visible. 

She threaded her way through the throng of people that always seemed to be present in Haven since the official declaration of the Inquisition and its subsequent denouncement by the Chantry in Val Royeaux, stepping aside for the soldiers and nobles alike as though she were only a lowly guard on rotation.  As the Chantry came into sight, the crowd thinned slightly and Quinn took the long path around, smiling slightly as she heard the rowdy patrons in the tavern singing and shouting boisterously, nodding respectfully at Solas when she passed him sitting on the stone wall outside the cabin he’d claimed as his own reading a thick tome. 

“Good afternoon, Herald.  How was your trip?”

“Dry, dusty, temperamental with Varric and Bull in the same area as Vivienne for an extended period of time,” she said with a smile.  Solas’ lips twitched as he hummed and returned his attention to his book, and Quinn went up the steps, past the apothecary’s cabin, where she could faintly hear him prescribing a mixture of herbs to a patient inside. 

She set her sights on the large tent set up some yards away from the front entrance of the Chantry and was afforded a profile of the spymaster, engrossed in some letters she held in her hands.  Her hood, as was typical, was drawn up, her gloved hands traced the lines of words on the heavy papers, and Quinn felt some of her residual tiredness wear away.  She strode into the tent, standing at attention behind Leliana as she waited for her to acknowledge her. 

“What news do you bring, ser?” 

Leliana didn’t turn, and Quinn’s hazel eyes flashed with mischief.  She made an effort to deepen her voice slightly without it sounding strained, to throw the spymaster off.  “I bear news of the Herald’s travels, Sister Nightingale.” 

Leliana’s shoulders drew back almost imperceptibly but for the shifting of her clothes, head lifting slightly although her eyes never left the papers in her hand and she didn’t turn her face.  “What news, ser?”

“The Herald returns again this day with her companions and soldiers from their venture to the Forbidden Oasis.  They bear no dead and their animals are weighted with precious metals and herbs to be used here, Sister.”

“Good, I am glad they are well.”  There was a pause, and Leliana turned slightly toward Quinn, revealing a pale expanse of cheek and the arch of her brow.  “How fares the Herald?” 

Quinn grinned, shifting her weight to one foot.  “She appears well, although tired, m’lady.  She bore no major injuries herself, and carried herself with her usual poise as she entered Haven earlier.”

“Do you know where she went?”

“I believe she wanted to break her fast, Sister Nightingale, but she had some matters to attend to before she could.” 

Leliana scoffed and Quinn could almost see her rolling her eyes.  “Merde, that woman – will she never learn to take care of herself, lest she fall ill?”

“I believe she was coming to see _you_ , Leliana.”

“Wha-”  Leliana finally turned completely, laying tight, wan eyes on Quinn who was grinning with a twinkling gaze.  “You damned imp!”  She reached out to slap Quinn’s shoulder plating, Quinn only smiling wider as she barely budged. 

She caught Leliana’s wrist when the spymaster pulled away and leaned over to kiss the back of her glove, sparkling eyes still meeting Leliana’s through the shadows of her helmet.  “I aim to please, Leliana.”

“It is good to see you.  Why do you still wear that helm?”  Without waiting for an answer, the redhead reached forward and gently pulled the helmet off Quinn’s head, freeing her skin to the blissfully cool air.  Her hair, plaited into a thick braid, was pressed flat against her skull with sweat, the white shock of hair barely visible from the dust that had gathered over their travels.  “You have not bathed?”

“There were few chances in the Forbidden Oasis, Leliana; we spent more time fighting demons and bandits than sleeping, to be perfectly frank.  I have sand in places it should _never_ be, and my armor has been chafing horribly on the ride back.  But I wanted to see you before I did anything else, and then break my fast afterward.”

“While I am flattered that you came to see me first,” and, indeed, Leliana’s eyes twinkled with a pleased light and her skin was flushed, “why have you not yet broken your fast?  The supplies should not have run that low for the two weeks you were gone, especially if your men had been hunting as they normally do.” 

Quinn sighed, rolling her shoulder and reaching up to scratch at her scalp.  “Aye, that is true, but we…encountered trouble on the way back.  The snow is getting deeper and, even this early into winter, the animals are having trouble navigating the terrain.  We had to kill two of our pack horses when they broke their legs on some rocks hidden beneath the snow on the trails, and none of the remaining horses or the men were able to split and carry the herbs and metals as well as food. 

“I decided that we needed the herbs and ores more than the food, considering more people show up here every day, it seems.  As such, rations were cut the last four days to make up the difference.”  Quinn shrugged.  “I ate enough to stay on my horse and let the men have my other meals.”

“You cannot do that, Your Grac-”

“Do not start with the ‘Your Grace’ nonsense, Leliana, just come out and say what you want.  You always do anyway, and I would rather your straightforward anger than the Nightingale’s cutting remarks.”  Quinn reached out and brushed Leliana’s hood off her head, fingerless gloves casually sliding down her cheek before retreating.  “There she is, I thought my friend was somewhere under that cowl and dark glare.” 

Leliana eyed Quinn balefully and sighed.  “You cannot cease taking your meals to help your men, Quinn; we cannot have you falling ill from lack of sustenance.”

“But I did not ‘cease taking meals,’ I only curbed them generously,” Quinn retorted with a smirk. 

“You know what I mean!  If you were not at your best and were set upon by bandits or, Maker forbid, a rift filled with demons, what would you do?”

“I imagine I would fight, using the blade at my back and the men standing at my sides, Leliana.”  Quinn spoke quietly, stepping closer and tilting her head down to stare seriously at Leliana.  Her braid fell over her shoulder, thick chestnut colored hair standing out against the dust covered sheen of her armor.  She canted her head to the side, searching Leliana’s eyes for understanding.  “I would fight, because I know no other way, and my morals would not allow me to sit by the wayside and watch my men battle and die for me, Leliana.”

“That is their purpose, Quinn,” Leliana responded, voice equally soft and impassioned, a furrow between her brows as she frowned up at the warrior.  “They signed on with the Inquisition to become soldiers, to protect you and your companions, to die for you if necessary.”

“But it _is not_ , can you not see that?  As long as I am capable of lifting my sword, they will not die if I can prevent it.  I understand that men die in battle, Leliana, I really do.  You do not stay with the guard for nearly two decades without seeing men, _good_ men who become friends, dying.  But I have also learned that they fight all the harder when someone they look up to is among their numbers in the thick of the battle.  Do not ask me to sit back while they fight, Leliana, because I cannot.” 

Silence stretched between them as they stared each other down and Leliana finally broke eye contact with a sigh.  She looked at the papers in her grasp and lifted them to reread the words scrawled there, a furrow reappearing between her brows. 

“What’s wrong?”  Quinn asked. 

Leliana was silent for a few more moments before meeting her eyes again.  “I received these letters from one of my spies a day ago.  He ran his horse as fast as he could to deliver it to me personally; he said he did not dare hand them off to anyone else.”  Quinn settled back on her heels, waiting for the redhead to expand on her story.  “Imagine how it felt when, upon breaking the seal on the papers, I find out that one of my informants, a man I have known since leaving the Seekers of Truth to become Justinia’s Left Hand, has been selling secrets to a noble with ties to the Venatori.” 

Leliana looked up at Quinn, eyes burning with anger, and her jaw clenched as the sound of crinkling paper filled the space between them.  “I have yet to give my reply to the scout, but I will personally take care of this matter, believe me.  No one crosses me, especially with the work we are doing now; the information I receive day-to-day is too sensitive for many of my spies to handle, and the ones who do, I depend on to be _discreet_ and _loyal_.” 

Her nostrils flared as she spit out the words and Quinn gently took the papers from her hand, scanning them quickly for the gist of the message.  “It says here that he only suspects the man of having sold the secrets.  How do you know he actually did?”

“How could he have not?  I have gone back through his correspondence with me since the Inquisition began, and his letters have become increasingly vague with me ever since his arrival in Orlais.  The last several did not even detail his specific whereabouts, no doubt to prevent me from locating him easily.”  Leliana began pacing in the tent, taking four short paces before turning sharply on her heel and walking back to the table. 

Quinn watched her grow increasingly distressed as a frown cut deeply across her lips and her eyes glinted coldly.  On the spymaster’s next pass, Quinn reached out and gently grabbed her bicep, halting her progress and waiting for blue eyes to meet hers.  “Just because his letters have lost their normal divulgence, that is no reason to automatically assume his guilt.  Unless you have proof in your hands that he has done something irreparably wrong, he should not die.”

“Who said anything about dying?”

“I know you, Leliana.  At least, after spending nearly five months in your lovely company fairly regularly, I would hope I know you.”  A mirthless smile flashed across the redhead’s lips.  “I know how you operate, and I can see the murder in your eyes.  Do not go running into the night to enact your justice-”

“I would not, I have too many duties here to be able to leave for the amount of time it would take to travel to Orlais and track him down.”

“Yes, true though that may be, I know you would be there yourself if you had the ability to be.  I suggest this, instead: tell your man to track him down and ask him back here for a debriefing by you.  Will he suspect that?” 

A speculative expression crossed Leliana’s face as she thought.  “No, I suppose he would not.  It is not unusual for me to ask my most trusted spies here to personally receive a message I need delivered to some important person.” 

Quinn smiled gently and brushed back a strand of hair from Leliana’s cheek, fingertips tracing her jawline teasingly before pulling away.  “Okay.  Will you do that, then?  And if I am here, I will come with you to ask him what the truth is.”  Her tone left no room for argument, and Leliana conceded with a nod. 

“Alright.”  She exhaled loudly, the tension releasing from her shoulders simultaneously, and smiled wanly up at Quinn.  “Thank you for not allowing me to do this.  He was – is – a friend, and although I do not wish to, I cannot allow any defectors to have a place among my spies.  You understand what I must do if he is guilty?”

“Aye, and I respect that, I do.  But you can see that we must exhaust all other roads before coming to that conclusion, yes?”

“Aye,” Leliana responded cheekily, eyes lighting up as the conversation ended. 

Quinn rolled her eyes and tugged the redhead forward suddenly, enveloping her in her arms.  “It is good to be back, my dear Nightingale.”

“It is good to have you back, my friend.  I am glad you’ve returned safely.”  Leliana pressed her cheek against Quinn’s shoulder plate, nose tucked into the slope of her neck, and it wrinkled as she inhaled.  She stepped back gingerly and waved her hand in front of her nose in exaggeration.  “I believe you may want to take a bath before breaking your fast, though.  You reek, Quinn.”

“Hey, now!”

~~~~~~

Quinn sighed as she shut the door of her cabin, leaning back against it briefly before moving into the room.  She glanced wistfully at the bed and then turned toward the large tub set near the fire, steam rising from the water filling the wooden basin.  Suddenly feeling the weight of her armor and the stiffness in her muscles from riding hard and aggravating her myriad bruises and wounds, she sighed and began the slow task of removing the plate.  First removing her zweihander, she set it carefully on the weapon stand, making a note to tend to the steel after her bath.  She set her helmet aside and slowly unbuckled her breastplate, groaning quietly as the aches in her ribs from a bandit’s mace renewed itself.  She sighed happily as the weight on her body grew progressively lighter, gingerly stretching when she had finally toed off her boots and groaning when her spine popped.  She plucked at the light chainmail covering her torso, eying the breaks in the weave and just able to see the tears in the cloth beneath.  She threw the ruined tunic off to the side and unbound her breasts, drawing her breeches and smalls down her hips and sliding into the hot water with a quiet moan.  She laid there with her head on the rim of the tub for a few minutes, listening to the quiet noises outside her door and feeling her muscles slowly relax before sitting up and grabbing the soap from the small stand by her arm.  As she drew the bar along her skin, she felt the newly forming scabs and tender skin under the pads of her fingers and sighed.  She broke from her reverie when she heard her cabin door creak as it was opened and looked over her shoulder at the visitor. 

“Quinn, I meant to tell you before you left abo – oh, I am sorry.”  Leliana stood motionless in the door, blinking at the warrior silently. 

“We can discuss it, but would you mind shutting the door?  You are letting the heat out.” 

Leliana let the door close behind her and cautiously moved into the room, visibly uncomfortable under Quinn’s scrutiny.  “I did not mean to interrupt; I will return when you are clean.”

“It is fine, Leliana,” Quinn waved at her, returning her attention to the soap in her hand.  “We are both women, and I have long grown used to the lack of privacy, especially among soldiers.  What do you need to discuss?”  As she drew the soap over her shoulder, she heard Leliana suck in a sharp breath and looked over at the redhead.  Blue eyes were locked on her shoulder and the triplicate of scars that marred the skin there. 

“Do they horrify your delicate Orlesian sensibilities?”  Despite her joking words, there was a measure of sincere worry in her voice.  “Do my honestly earned scars make you feel ill-at-ease, my dear Nightingale?  What do the marks upon my skin make you feel?” 

Water sloshed as she rinsed the suds from her skin, filling the heavy silence between them.  Leliana slowly approached, sinking to her knees by the tub and not meeting Quinn’s eyes.  “Your scars,” she began quietly, “make me sad.  Such a woman as you should not carry such marks upon her person.  They are testament to your trials and the hardships this life has afforded you.”  A gloved hand ghosted over the claw marks on her shoulder, then withdrew.  “They are also proof of your bravery and skill.  So, no, they do not make me feel ill-at-ease.  Rather, I respect them and how they were acquired, Quinn.  Believe me when I say that I, off all people, can respect the gathering of scars.” 

She sat back on her heels as Quinn’s eyes flicked between hers, hazel brimming with questions.  “It…heartens me, to hear you say so.  I would not wish them away even if I had the power to; they define me and are my story, carved onto my skin.”  Eventually, the warrior broke eye contact and pulled the leather thong from the end of her braid, beginning to unbraid the thick strands. 

“Let me.” 

Quinn paused and stared at Leliana for a moment before acquiescing, extending her hand for Leliana to take.  She carefully pulled the fingers of the heavy gloves away from the redhead’s skin, dropping first one, then the other and leaning back against the rim of the tub. 

Leliana shifted to kneel behind her and set her hands at the end of her hair, slowly unweaving the braid and running her fingers through the thick tresses to pull any tangles out.  She watched the subtle shifting of muscle as Quinn continued to run the soap over her skin, lifting a leg from the water to cleanse it.  When she reached her scalp, she sunk her fingers into her hair and carded her digits through it, marveling at the silky texture even after several days’ travel.  Quinn hummed and tilted her head back, exposing the long line of her neck and revealing the scar on her temple as well.  Leliana traced a finger over the raised skin, feeling where it extended into her hairline, hidden beneath the veil of white locks. 

Wordlessly, she reached for the bar of soap and lathered her hands before sinking them into Quinn’s hair and kneading gently.  The warrior groaned, dropping lower into the tub, and hummed happily as Leliana continued to wash her hair.  Leliana lingered after Quinn’s hair was running silkily through her fingers, just carding her digits through the thick strands and watching the rich colors flow over her skin. 

“You have such beautifully long hair.”

“It is my one saving grace, I suppose.”  Quinn shrugged and the play of muscle caught Leliana’s eye.  “Otherwise, I would have only my blade to coerce anyone to my bed.”  She laughed quietly, the rich sound accompanied by splashing as she pulled away from Leliana and submerged herself.  When she resurfaced, she wiped the rivulets of water from her face and wrung out her hair, standing in the tub and reaching for the thick towel set aside. 

Leliana stood as well, crossing her arms and averting her eyes, listening as Quinn dried herself and stepped out of the tub.  Her eyes followed the wet foot marks to the foot of the bed, where Quinn knelt before the chest there and rummaged through it.  She immodestly discarded the towel as she stood, pulling her small clothes over her legs and tying the worn breeches so they slung low on her hips. 

“What did you need, Leliana?”  Quinn faced her as she unwound a new breast band and paused, meeting blue eyes.  “Leliana?” 

The redhead didn’t answer, finding her attention captured by the myriad scars both old and new that littered Quinn’s torso.  She halved the distance between them before she was aware she had moved and hesitantly reached out to ghost her fingers over a cluster of marks over Quinn’s ribs.  The warrior flinched, the ladder of her ribs showing briefly as she inhaled, but otherwise remained still as Leliana explored the collection of scars that decorated her skin.  Leliana’s warm hands pressed against the tight muscles of her abdomen, covering a thick, ropy scar that was just to the side of her navel, thumb swiping over the uneven skin gently. 

“We were on patrol outside the city,” Quinn said softly, “making our way around the outer wall.  Normal night, cool; I can still smell the scent of the ocean as we followed the path.  I was in my eighth year as a guard and had gained something of a reputation as a hard arse.  My group was laughing, joking with each other; nothing ever happened outside the eastern wall, too rocky and exposed.  But, that also worked in their favor.” 

Her eyes darkened, lost in the memory as her hand pressed over Leliana’s, trapping it against her skin.  “My man out front stepped on a trap, and the one in back was taken out with a garrote.  They swarmed us, a dozen men who were part of a smuggling ring, and took down another guard before we could defend ourselves.  We lost those two, plus a woman who had just transferred to my unit that night.  I nearly lost my life, too, and still have the scar to show for my mistake.”

“Mistake?  You lived, I would hardly call that a mistake.”

“Defending the man whose foot was caught in the trap nearly cost my lifeblood.  I fought off one man, then another, and turned my back to try and release the catch.  I quickly found a blade in my belly for my trouble, courtesy of a slippery bastard who managed to get past my guards.  Even the mages could not completely heal me; they barely managed to stem the bleeding in time.” 

Quinn took Leliana’s free hand and brought it around her back, pressing the pads of her fingers to a cleaner incision on her back, slightly higher than on her front.  Leliana felt Quinn’s breasts moving gently against her chest, her warm breath washing over her nose, and tilted her head up to meet hazel eyes.  “Yet you lived.  To leave Ostwick, to come here, to be a part of this Inquisition.”

“Yes, it appears so, does it not,” Quinn murmured, her eyes bouncing between Leliana’s with purpose.  She ducked her head and stalled briefly, lips barely brushing Leliana’s, and the redhead made a wanting sound at the back of her throat before closing the distance.  Quinn’s chapped lips moved over Leliana’s slowly and her hand palmed the redhead’s waist, pulling her flush against her bare front and tilting her head to deepen the kiss. 

They pulled away reluctantly, Leliana’s eyes fluttering open before Quinn’s, finding a blissful expression on the warrior’s face.  She curled her fingers against her abdomen, feeling the muscles flex beneath the pads of her fingertips and licked her lips.  Within the moment, her own expression cooled drastically and she tried to move out of Quinn’s reach with a subtle motion.  “You have a mission to complete.”

“Hunh?”  Quinn’s eyes met hers, still hazy and dilated, and she shook her head to clear it.  Her hand tightened on Leliana’s waist, preventing the redhead from moving too far from her. 

“I originally came to tell you of your next mission, the one I mentioned in my scroll to you.  You must be on your way within the week if you are to make it to the rendezvous point on time.”  Leliana extracted herself from the warrior’s grip deftly and smoothed her creased clothes mechanically.  She walked back to the cooling bath and picked up her gloves, slipping them over her hands as she spoke.  “I will expect you in the Chantry within the hour to receive your orders.  Good day, Your Grace.”

~~~~~~

The small group of fighters drove their mounts relentlessly through the rain, following their leader with wary glances at each other as they stared at her plate covered form.  Ahead, Quinn focused with single minded determination on the faint lights of the camp in the distance, her zweihander naked and clutched in her bare hands as she controlled her horse with her legs. 

“Come on, you undead bastards, give me a fight!” 

As the first shambling corpses staggered out of the mist, rusted weapons in hand, she pulled her horse to a stop and dismounted, charging headlong into the fray.  The eerie sounds that passed for cries in the rotted throats of the undead enemies made her shiver as much as the cold rainwater dripping down her nape, but she only swung her sword in a wide arc, dismembering three of the abominations before they could draw their weapons.  The half score of others closed with surprising quickness and she engaged them, barely hearing her companions over the rain and the rush of blood in her ears.  She decapitated another and watched it flail senselessly for a moment until her attention was grabbed by a charging specter with mace in skeletal hands.  She didn’t bother to raise her blade and block the strike, instead using the force of the blow against her side to empower herself, watching with faint satisfaction as its ribs collapsed with a brittle crunch and it fell forward lifelessly.  She suddenly found herself on the ground, ears ringing and warmth coursing down her neck, staring up at a skeleton as it raised its corroded blade overhead to deliver a killing blow.  It abruptly fell to pieces, pierced with a ball of energy that shattered the fragile bonds keeping it in one piece. 

“That was the most ass brained thing you have done yet, Boss.  Get up before I decide to leave you here.”  Quinn took the extended hand and was levered to her feet, finding her wrist gripped in a meaty hand.  The Iron Bull stared seriously down at her, his one eye balefully eying the new dent on her breastplate and the blood streaming from a narrow wound on her cheek.  “C’mon, we need to get you to camp, the Vint can look you over there.”

“Aw, I knew you cared, Bull.”  Quinn batted her eyes up at the Qunari and took a step, nearly stumbling into the bog as her balance upended itself, if not for Bull’s solid presence at her side. 

“Okay, Boss, enough theatrics for today, we want get you back in one piece.  Give me that pig sticker before you hurt yourself.”  He nonchalantly took her zweihander out of her hand, dwarfing the two handed grip in his hand, and pulled her close to his side as they staggered to her horse.  He tossed her into the saddle like a sack of grain and took her horse’s reins, leading the tired mount toward the lights in the distance. 

Astride her mount, Quinn felt her vision suddenly tilt and she slumped over the saddle, finding her breath coming in short pants as her chest constricted.  “Oh shit, hold on, Boss!”  The words filtered dimly through the low drone filling her ears as her vision blurred, and the last thing she was aware of, Bull’s horned head filled her sight as she was abruptly picked up and laid somewhere dry.  Her armor made lying horizontally uncomfortable, but she didn’t have long to think about that before she was swept into blissful darkness.

When next she came to, Quinn felt as though her head was trying to split itself in two.  The rain was still coming down, now harder than before, and the damp, rotting scent of the bog filled her nose and made her gag.  She swallowed the bile in her throat and sat up slowly, closing her eyes against the nausea and dizziness that threatened to make her lose her balance.  Looking down the length of her body, she found her armor removed, stacked neatly by the side and dry, and her torso wrapped tightly enough with bandages that it was slightly uncomfortable to breath.  She grunted as she touched her ribs, pain flaring along her side when she sucked in a breath. 

“Ah, my dear cousin, you awaken at last!  You gave us quite a scare there, passing out like that.”  Dorian swept into the tent, removing his sodden cloak with a little flourish and depositing it by the flap.  He knelt at her side, staff lying nearby, and gently pushed on her shoulders, prompting her to lie back on the cot.  “Please try to avoid doing that again any time in the near future,” he murmured seriously, meeting her eyes with his worried gaze.  “I do _not_ want to have to explain to everyone else how you decided to act the fool and charge a score of undead simply to relieve some tension, cousin.”

“I am afraid I do not have the faintest idea what you speak of, Dorian.” 

The mage eyed her in disbelief, scoffing loudly as he carefully unwound the bandages over her torso.  Quinn’s eyes widened when she saw the impressive bruising covering her entire side from hip to just beneath her armpit and she hissed as Dorian poked the darkest coloring experimentally.  “Just so you know, this is what happens when you take a mace to the side, _without_ attempting to defend yourself.  I would advise against it in the future.”

“I will take your word into conside – _ah_ , _Andraste’s fucking tits_ , can’t you be a _little_ gentler?!”

“I could,” he said with a grin, “but I am hoping that this will teach you a lesson.”  He poked it again, none too gently, and then his hand was wrapped in warm green light, palm pressed flat against her side.  Quinn sighed as the bones under the skin mended themselves further, although the bruising didn’t recede any.  “So, what made you do such an amazingly stupid thing, anyway?”  Dorian’s tone was conversational as he ran his hands further up and down her side, finding any other small cracks in the bones of her ribs and mending them with a whisper. 

“What do you mean?” 

Dorian scoffed loudly, eyes still on her skin.  “Do not play the fool, _cousin_ , you do not have the right face for it.  I know the look in your eyes, I have worn it myself a time or two.  Someone pissed in your breakfast and now you stew silently, gnashing your teeth impotently and shaking your fist at the sky.”

“Pretty words from a pretty man,” Quinn murmured.

“Glad you know that much, at least.  Do not evade, Quinn, I have had longer to practice than you.”

“I am pretty sure that is not true-”

“Nonetheless, I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, _if_ you tell me one thing.”  He lifted a finger and waggled it in front of her nose obnoxiously.  “I already know it is a person you are having such a fit over, since we have had no serious missions for a while for you to get worked up over.  Tell me, cousin, is it a man or a woman?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“A woman, then, since I believe a man would not make you snarl so.  You would confront a man directly, but a _woman¸_ they require more tact.”

“What would you know of the workings of women?”

“More than you know, my dear.”  Dorian smiled widely and clasped Quinn’s shoulder, squeezing it affectionately.  “Anyway, you need to speak with her.  This,” he said, gesturing at her newly battered body, “is not healthy in any way.  There are many ways to have fun leaving marks, but charging blindly into battle with no regard for yourself is not one of them. 

“For my sake, if not your own, please just sit down with her and _talk_.  I cannot have you giving me wrinkles prematurely, Quinn.”  Dorian winked and stood, brushing off his robes as he leaned over to grip his staff.  “I leave you to convalesce in peace, cousin.  Do try and sleep, you will need it, I think.  We leave for Haven in the morning.”


	3. Chapter 3

Quinn’s face heated as they rode into Haven, feeling the eyes boring into her back as she slid clumsily off her horse.  She bit her lip so she wouldn’t yelp as the deep bruises covering her side complained vehemently.  She shuffled sideways, grimacing and holding her breath against the pain until the throb faded and stiffly made her way into Haven, searching for the apothecary to ask him for a poultice, hoping it would take away some of the ache settled deep into her skin. 

She was caught before she could climb the steps into the village by The Iron Bull, who gripped her shoulder in his hand.  “Boss, are you sure you should be moving?”

“I fear if I sit down, I shall never rise again,” Quinn said, smirking lopsidedly.  She held herself gingerly erect, trying to breathe shallowly through her mouth to minimize any movement to her ribs. 

“That is the spirit, Boss!”  Bull clapped her on the arm, smiling sheepishly when she grunted in pain and glared up at him.  “Sorry, heh.  Why not go to your cabin?  I will hunt down that medicine man and bring the poultice to you.”  When Quinn opened her mouth to argue, Bull gently turned her toward her cabin.  “I mean it, go lie down before you fall over, Boss.  I will be back before you know it.” 

He left her standing at the foot of the stairs, which she slowly shuffled up, and made her way to her quarters.  She leaned against the door to catch her breath before disarming herself carelessly.  Arms and armor lay where they landed, creating a metal trail to the bed where she laid herself gingerly atop the furs, cradling her ribs in her hand.  A few minutes later, a knock sounded on the door and, before she could tell them to enter, Leliana pushed inside. 

“The Iron Bull told me you had returned; I thought we might discuss – _Maker, what_ – Quinn!”  Leliana froze at the sight of the discarded armor, following the trail to the bed to find Quinn curled into herself with one hazel eye staring at her.  “What in the world happ – are you injured?”  She rushed to the bed and patted Quinn down, pausing when the warrior grunted as her hand brushed over her ribs. 

“I am fine, just stiff, you really don-” 

Leliana yanked her tunic up, gloved fingers ghosting over the deep bruising on her skin.  “What did you do?” 

Quinn sighed and resigned herself to being fussed over as Leliana pulled a pot from within one of the several pouches lining her waist, opening it with a twist and releasing the pungent smell.  “Ugh, if I tell you, will you _not_ apply that putrid stuff to my skin?  I rather enjoy smelling clean, and not like I swam in a vat of shit.”  Leliana stared her down until Quinn acquiesced with a huff, throwing herself flat onto her back with a wince.  Leliana discarded her gloves and dipped two fingers into the concoction, smearing it over Quinn’s skin efficiently.  The warrior stiffened at the first, cool touch of the poultice, but soon relaxed as the numbing agent within the mixture took the ache out of her body.  “Andraste’s tits, that’s good.”

“Eloquent as always.”

“You would be, too, if you had taken a mace to the side.”

“Speaking of, Bull conspicuously left out that part of your mission.”  Leliana continued spreading the poultice over her skin, slowly working it into the bruises.  “I did not take you for careless, Your Grace.  What happened?”  Quinn eyed her at the moniker but otherwise remained stoic.  “Do not make me guess, Your Gr-”

“Do not give me that shit, _Leliana_.”  Quinn wielded the spymaster’s name like a weapon, swinging it around with brutal efficiency and bringing Leliana’s hand to a halt.  “You do _not_ get to leave me like you did and then act concerned when I return injured.  I have had nearly thirty seven winters in this world, I know when I am being strung along.  I will not be played with like some bauble to be put on a shelf when you are tired of it, Leliana.  If you are quite done, I believe I can do this on my own.” 

Quinn held out her hand for the poultice, arching her brow when Leliana only stared at her.  The redhead took one, then two, deep breaths, averting her eyes from Quinn’s irate gaze.  “…you do not understand.”

“Then _enlighten_ me, Nightingale.” 

Leliana flinched at the cold words.  “I…since the end of the Blight, I have traveled in many different circles.  I walked alongside the Seekers of Truth for a time before becoming the Left Hand of the Divine, and the longer I worked with Justinia, the more was required of me.  I have many enemies, Yo – Quinn.  Even though I am not widely known by my given name, The Nightingale is a public figure and is known to reside here amongst the soldiers and mages as an advisor to the Herald.” 

Leliana set aside the poultice and hesitantly reached out to grasp Quinn’s fingers, watching her face carefully for any emotion.  Her thumb swiped over the warrior’s knuckles and a smile ghosted across her lips when Quinn met her eyes.  “My role in this Inquisition is much the same as it was as the Left Hand.  Do you understand that?  My scouts perform reconnaissance for your soldiers and my spies ferret out our enemies’ secrets, often at great peril to themselves and, subsequently, to myself.  If I am caught by our enemies…” 

Leliana’s voice trailed off and Quinn felt her heart stir as a shiver rolled down her spine.  Despite her lingering anger, she found herself gingerly propping herself up on her elbow and cupping Leliana’s cheek in her palm.  “I will not allow that to happen, I promise.”

“How can you?  You do not know what will happen in the future-”

“Actually, I do, but that remains beside the point.  Leliana, listen to me, please.”  Quinn sat upright and curled her other hand around the back of Leliana’s neck.  “I _get_ that you have a dangerous job, I really do.  But I do, too.  I am out there all the time, risking my life to close the remaining rifts with this thrice damned mark!  I have spent my entire adult life in some sort of danger, simply because of the line of work I chose. 

“Those choices, those paths I took to become a guard over following my parents’ wishes, shaped me so I take joy from the smallest things.  To me,” she said quietly, pulling Leliana closer by her nape, “each and every day is to be cherished, for who knows how long it will last?  I am not powerless, Leliana; trust me to defend myself to my last breath, if nothing else.” 

With those words murmured against Leliana’s lips, Quinn closed the distance and kissed her gently, fingers tangling in the short hairs at her nape.  Leliana’s hood slipped fully off her head as she leaned in closer, her hand cupping Quinn’s jaw.  Her breath stuttered in her chest when the warrior nipped her lower lip and she melted against her, careful to avoid her bruised side as she shifted onto her knees and pressed closer.  “I do not want to hurt you again,” she whispered, forehead pressed to Quinn’s as she kept her eyes closed.  “If I am taken, they can use me against you; and if you are hurt, I would be…inconsolable.  Please, I beg you…” 

Her lips desperately pressed against Quinn’s, the faint tang of salt mingling as a couple tears slipped down her cheeks.  Quinn gathered Leliana close, ignoring the twinge in her side, and kissed her temple.  “I do not trust easily anymore,” Leliana whispered, forehead leant against Quinn’s shoulder, “and I do not take promises as absolute truths any longer.  Do not make me promises you cannot keep, Quinn.” 

Before Quinn could respond, the bell used to alert the soldiers of Haven rang three times before falling ominously silent.  They stared at each other with wide eyes and scrambled simultaneously off the bed, Quinn hastily buckling her zweihander onto her back and slipping her boots on before disappearing out the door, Leliana hot on her heels.  They found the village in an uproar, civilians and soldiers alike scrambling for an idea of what was happening.  Quinn none-too-gently shoved people out of her way, craning her neck to find Cassandra standing in the midst of the mayhem with Cullen and Varric at her side. 

“Cassandra, what’s going on?”

“I do not know, Herald!  The sentry at the gate said he saw smoke on the horizon; Bull went to investigate.”  Just then, the Qunari spy trotted through the gates of Haven and called his Chargers to him, the company shoving the gates closed and barring it securely shut.  “Bull?”

“Hey, Boss, Nightingale, Seeker.”  Bull nodded respectfully at the gathered companions and scratched his beard roughly.  “We got trouble.” 

, pressing her palm against her forehead roughly.  “What _now?_   What could possibly be going sideways?”

“Lights.”

“Pardon?”

“On the mountainside; lots and _lots_ of lights.  A train of torches winding up the path to Haven, looks like an army.” 

Quinn groaned again as her advisors immediately began speaking over each other with Varric looking on in amusement.  “Not that this is not highly amusing, but might we want to focus on the approaching enemy instead of each other at this moment?”  The dwarf scratched his jaw with a wry smile on his face.  “I do not know if I can speak for the rest of you, but I know Bianca’s excited for a fight.”  He affectionately patted the butt of the crossbow and turned his eyes to the wall. 

Leliana frowned mightily, beginning to pace in a short line between the group.  “Why have I not heard of this until now?  My spies should have long reported to me about any significant troop movements.  Who _are_ they?” 

A heavy thump echoed at the barred gates and all heads swiveled to watch the barrier.  It came again and Quinn automatically took a step closer, halting when Leliana’s hand grabbed her tunic.  “Let me in!” 

Quinn took another step and found her view of the gates blocked by Cassandra, who stood in front of her with her blade bared.  “Who is there!”

“I cannot help you if you will not let me in!  I know who is coming; he wants you!”  Quinn broke free of Leliana’s grasp and threw the bar off the gate, opening the door wide enough for the stranger outside to slip in.  It was a young man, a wide brimmed hat covering his white blonde hair and most of his face, narrow of shoulder and disarmingly skinny.  His wide eyes met Quinn’s briefly, shining with recognition before flitting over her shoulder to address her companions at large.  “He has brought an army to your Haven; helpless homes have no hope for salvation.  Sacrifice sunders sanctuary, saves supplicants.”  The boy – man? – trailed off into troubled muttering, his fingers twitching randomly as they grasped the ragged hem of his shirt. 

Quinn felt a prickle of unease raise goosebumps on her skin at his words and took a step closer to him.  She was blocked by Cassandra, who closed the distance aggressively and grabbed the boy’s collar.  “Who are you?  What nonsense do you spout, what information do you have that gives you this insight?” 

She looked ready to shake him until Leliana set her hand on the warrior’s shoulder and squeezed gently.  “Cassandra, frightening the boy will do us no good.  Let him help the villagers to the Chantry; we will figure out what to do after addressing this _army._ ”  Her lips twisted ferociously and she turned her blue gaze on Quinn, simultaneously steadying her and making her heart race.  “What are your orders, Your Grace?”

“We must fight this force immediately, drive them away from haven!”  Cullen stepped forward with a hand on the hilt of his sword, a frown marring his face.  “If they get inside the walls-”

“It is too late for offensive tactics, Commander,” Quinn broke in.  “Can you not hear them?”  Indeed, beneath the sound of rushing feet and frantic speech, the steady tattoo of thousands of feet marching in time gave fresh fear a foothold in the hearts of those gathered around the Herald.  “We must defend the gates and try to prevent them from breaching the walls.” 

At her side, Leliana turned to a scout who was bent double and gasping for air.  He whispered his message to the spymaster and sloppily saluted before disappearing into the throng of people striding toward the Chantry.  “We cannot hope to hold them all off, my scouts report a force easily twice the size of ours.  We must cut them off, or we will be overrun.  Your Grace?” 

Again, Quinn found herself beneath the scrutiny of many eyes and, instead of shrinking beneath the heavy mantle in her title, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin as she almost visibly stepped into the role of Leader.  Her eyes scanned the outlying boundaries of Haven and settled on a triplet of trebuchets that squatted in the snow, wooden ballasts and pulleys calling to her immediately.  “We bury them.” 

Leliana followed her line of sight and smiled grimly, the raised cowl setting her face into shadow.  Cullen’s brow wrinkled thoughtfully.  “If you aimed over the pass, it would cut off the bulk of the force…it _could_ work.”

“Alright, enough chit chat, Bianca’s ready for a fight!”

“Well spoken, dwarf!  My weapon has not tasted blood in too long!  Chargers, to me; today, we battle!”  His company wove through the crowd and surrounded Quinn and her companions, armed to the teeth with eyes gleaming excitedly.  Bull pointed at the trebuchets.  “We need to get to those and defend them; Krem, if it is not me, the Boss, or any of her companions, you cut them off at the knees, understand?”

“Got it, Bull!  Chargers, form up!”  The company followed Krem down the trail and Quinn returned her attention to the conversation that had sparked between her spymaster and commander. 

“Cullen, we must know who our enemy is.”

“Yes, but at what cost?  A handful of your men, a score, more?  Is it worth it, Nightingale?”

“Knowledge is _always_ worth the risk.”  Leliana’s eyes flashed dangerously and she took a threatening step toward Cullen. 

Quinn physically stepped between the two, meeting their eyes and holding their gazes until they dropped, although Leliana defiantly kept her gaze for several seconds longer than was wise with the warrior’s fraying temper.  “We cannot afford to bicker amongst ourselves.  I venture we will know who our enemy is soon enough, so we will not be sending any scouts out.  That said,” she continued, speaking over Leliana’s frustrated scoff, “we will need your spies for another mission.  Have them look for an alternate exit from Haven; we cannot leave by way of the pass, obviously, and the only other obvious way out is across the frozen lake.  Can you do that?” 

Quinn leveled her hazel eyes with Leliana and they stared at each other for several long moments, Quinn willing her face to stay placid and serene and not show the underlying fear that was making her palms sweaty and her pulse race erratically.  Finally, Leliana nodded and a smile ghosted across her lips, too quickly for anyone but Quinn to catch.  “As you say, Your Grace.”  She reached out and grasped Quinn’s wrist in a warrior’s handshake, pressing her fingertips against the inside of her wrist minutely before melting into the flow of people still moving around them. 

Quinn felt some of her tension dissipate as she eyed the now visible torchlight that glowed over the walls of the village.  “Let me find my armor, then we will give these bastards a welcome deserving of their arrival.”  Her smile was positively feral, more teeth and curled lip than genuine mirth, as she strode quickly toward her cabin to don her discarded armor.

~~~~~~

The ensuing battle was vicious and fast paced, leaving none of the defenders of Haven a moment’s rest.  Even the Iron Bull was winded after the last wave of Red Templars was rebuffed, his barrel chest heaving and breath fogging in the cold evening air.  “There is no end to the red assholes, Boss!  We cannot keep this up forever!”

“I know, but this blight forsaken thing takes forever to aim, and the last one was destroyed before we could fire it!”  Quinn wheezed for air as she stubbornly continued cranking on the trebuchet, sweat pouring down her face despite the freezing temperatures.  Red lit the sky as Haven burned around them, the screams of the dying and injured providing macabre background music to the crackle of flames as they consumed the dry tinder of cabins. 

“I got it!” 

Quinn staggered back as Cassandra grabbed her arm and forcibly removed her from the crankshaft, barely catching her footing as the Seeker replaced her and checked the orientation of the machine.  “It is in position!  Loose!”  On her command, the Chargers released the mechanism holding the trebuchet stationary and the sling swung up and over the wall, the wooden arm groaning as it cut through the air.  The boulder that had been loaded into the sling whistled through the sky and impacted with a delayed thud against the side of the pass.  The gathered defenders cheered as an avalanche buried the marching forces of Red Templars, clapping each other on the back and raising their weapons victoriously. 

Quinn smiled grimly and wiped the sweat from her brow, feeling the strain across her shoulders and chest as her armor weighed her down.  Cassandra walked up beside her and set her hand on her shoulder, eyes creased in worry.  “I am fine, Cassandra.  This is a mere work out, but you look wearied.  Getting slow in your age, Seeker?”  She jibed gently, watching Cassandra’s brow furrow and then clear as she fought back a bark of laughter.  Amber eyes danced as the Seeker pushed Quinn’s shoulder. 

“You are not so young yourself, Herald.  I have only a handful of years on you, remember.”

“As if I could forget; I hope only to age half as gracefully as you.”  Quinn riposted with a wink and watched a blush suffuse Cassandra’s cheeks, grinning as she scoffed and turned away. 

Bull walked up to them, weapon slung over his broad shoulder, and wiped the sweat away from his eye.  “Not to ruin the mood, Boss, but another wave is coming.”

“Dammit, where are these bastards coming from?  Bull, you and your Chargers head them off before they get to the Chantry, Cassandra and I shall defend any stragglers and meet you there.”

“No can do, Boss.  I am not leaving you for all the gold in the Inquisition’s treasury.  My boys will do just fine on their own.  Krem!”  The Vint jogged over and sloppily saluted, still visibly catching his breath.  “Take the boys up to the path ahead; keep those red assholes far away from the Chantry.”

“Got it.”  Krem led the Chargers up the path and the sounds of battle soon followed.  Quinn felt adrenaline rush through her body again as the sounds drew closer, clenching her zweihander more tightly in preparation. 

A faint whoosh of air caught her attention and her eyes flicked up, staring in disbelief at the creature flying above them.  “Down!”  As she yelled, a half decayed jaw opened and released a lethal flame, sending the fireball scorching over their heads.  The trebuchet at their backs caught fire immediately, wooden timbers flying violently by as the force of impact caused them to buckle.  Cassandra was flung away by a large timber and Quinn staggered as several pieces of shrapnel hit her armor.  “Bull!”

“You okay, Boss?”

“Get to Cassandra!”  Quinn lurched to her feet, head spinning, and watched muzzily as Bull curled protectively over the prostrate Seeker, his horned head swiveling as he checked her for injury.  By the time she had staggered over to the pair, the Iron Bull had already lifted the limp warrior into his arms and was warily searching the sky for the dragon.  “Is she?-”

“Alive, but badly injured.  The timber crushed her armor, I think it is pressing against her chest and constricting her breathing, Boss.  I can see blood in the joints.” 

Quinn cursed vehemently, hazel eyes blazing up at the darkened sky as the dragon screamed in rage and banked for another pass.  “Get out of here, Bull.”

“Boss-”

“Maker’s balls, you great horned bastard, listen to me!  Get her to safety, and do not _dare_ come back for me.  I will be fine!  I have a plan!”  She glanced around for an idea and her gaze fell on the remaining trebuchet.  “If I can aim the trebuchet up the mountainside and lure the dragon down to me, I can cause an avalanche and bury the blighted monster.  You and the others need to get to safety.”  Quinn shoved ineffectually at Bull’s elbow, glaring at him until he broke his gaze from hers and began jogging smoothly up the path. 

“You better not die, Boss!  Nightingale will kick my ass if you do!” 

Before she could reply, he was gone around the bend, and Quinn took a steadying breath.  “Leliana…right, do not die.  _Do not die._ ”  She murmured to herself as she took her position behind the crankshaft and began laboriously turning the enormous machine.  She constantly watched for the dragon, able to hear it scream but unable to find it in the quickly descending darkness, and heaved a sigh as she finally got the trebuchet in position.  Gasping for air, she unslung her zweihander and stepped onto the trampled, bloodstained snow.  “Come get me, you sodding lizard!  You want a fight, come get it!” 

An eerie silence descended upon the clearing, then the steady flap of wings announced the arrival of the dragon.  It appeared out of the darkness, landing with a lurch that made the earth beneath her feet vibrate, and opened its mouth to reveal dozens of chipped teeth and a dull glow at the back of its throat where its fire resided.  “Come on, you ugly bastard, give me a fight.”

“ _Enough._ ”  Quinn felt more than heard the voice, a pulsing intonation full of corrupt power that drove her to her knees.  “ _Usurper, you play with forces you know nothing of.  You corrupt the very thing meant to give order to this world._ ”

“You…you call this _madness_ order?”  Quinn laughed weakly and pushed herself back to her feet, feeling warmth slide down her face.  Passing the back of her hand beneath her nose, it came away red with her blood, and she smiled demonically as it filled her mouth with a coppery taste.  “Show yourself, coward!”

“ _I care nothing for a fool’s words, but ask and you shall receive, mortal._ ”  A figure stepped out of the dragon’s shadow, tall and misshapen and grotesque.  Long, gnarled fingers pointed accusingly at her, dead eyes full of malice stared into hers, and a shiver passed down Quinn’s spine.  “ _You have destroyed the anchor’s purpose with your inept flailing; no matter, I shall begin again, and this time, I will succeed.  Starting with the removal of that mark from your person._ ” 

The ragged figure clenched its fist and Quinn gasped as the air rapidly fled her lungs, an incorporeal hand lifting her off the blood stained and churned up snow.  Her weapon fell out of her nerveless grasp as she flailed at her throat, leaving bloody furrows as she dug uselessly.  Her face turned steadily redder and her bulging eyes followed the figure as it approached her.  Her left hand was grasped carelessly, gnarled nails gouging into her wrist and forearm, and she felt an uncomfortable tugging sensation in the joint of her wrist.  The ache quickly spread down into the beds of her nails and up past her elbow, pain contorting her face into a rictus that she maneuvered into a snarl. 

“What _are_ you?!”

“ _Names have little meaning for one as I; but, you may content your last moments with knowing me as Corypheus.  I will be your ending, and you shall witness the beginning of a new Age._ ”

“Not…not while I still breathe!”  Quinn fought past the blinding pain in her left arm and wrenched it away, simultaneously pulling her legs up and thrusting them at Corypheus’ chest.  She fell back into the snow with a heavy thud, curling into her arm protectively. 

She was wrenched upright once more and felt her left shoulder pop out of its socket, was faced down by Corypheus’ warped visage, twisted further in rage.  “ _You dare rebel against a magister’s will?  Foolish woman, I will tear the power from within you if you refuse to release it._ ” 

His fingers grasped her wrist again and the pain flared white hot, shooting up her arm into her shoulder and burning through her veins mercilessly.  She cried out soundlessly; felt the surge of pain for an endless moment in her captive arm, then fell bonelessly into the snow, now stained pink with the blood streaming from her arm and nose. 

“ _You bumble and flail at rifts, twisting the anchor’s purpose until it is useless to me!  Foolish, vile mortal!_ ”  Corypheus threw her back, watching apathetically as Quinn crumpled in a heap at the base of the trebuchet.  The dragon at his back growled deeply enough to rattle bone and took a lumbering step closer.  Quinn felt shocks of pain run up and down her spine as her eyes fluttered open to find her vision obscured by wood and snow.  Her gaze flicked over at the two creatures approaching her, watching the dragon’s maw open and the dull fire in its throat flare suddenly as it inhaled in preparation.  “ _If I cannot use the power, I will ensure you and your fledgling cause cannot as well._ ”

“…not today.” 

With a surge of power, Quinn kicked the crankshaft and watched the sling arc through the sky.  Corypheus’ dead gaze followed its path and Quinn felt a swell of satisfaction as his eyes widened.  The dragon stooped just as the boulder impacted against the mountainside above Haven and a wall of snow began tumbling down the slope.  The magister mounted the dragon and the duo flew into the night, leaving Quinn to struggle to her knees, teeth clenched as she watched the avalanche descend. 

“Not today, dammit.”  She swiped her zweihander out of the snow and lurched toward a metal grate set into the ground; reinforced to withstand a team’s weight, the grate covered a ladder leading to tunnels that crisscrossed the area around Haven.  They weren’t safe for everyday use, having weakened supports and collapsed tunnels in many places, but they were Quinn’s only hope.  She clumsily sheathed her sword with one hand and pulled with all her strength on the ring laid into the grate.  With a groan nearly eclipsed by the terrifying rumble of falling snow at her back, the grate lifted and Quinn spared a second’s glance behind herself at the avalanche that was nearly upon her.  She looked into the foreboding darkness at her feet and jumped, landing awkwardly on her ankle.  She cried out as it gave out under her weight and looked up in time to see snow cover the entrance overhead and the scarce light was snuffed entirely. 

The tunnel she was in groaned threateningly and dirt dusted her hair as more snow fell down the shaft, debris and bits of wood striking her armor with a dull ping.  Quinn grimaced as she fumbled about in the pitch dark for anything to pull herself erect, scraping her right hand in the packed dirt while her left hung uselessly at her side.  A faint green glow issued from her palm suddenly, the mark flaring with a dull, sickly light and showing the narrow space she was trapped in, and the remnants of the ladder that was still visible amongst the rubble.  She grimaced as she gingerly pulled herself upright, unable to put much weight on her ankle, and stared into the murky darkness before her. 

“Nowhere to go but forward.”


	4. Chapter 4

Leliana stopped as she felt the earth move beneath her feet and peered down the slope at the small speck which should have been Haven.  She found nothing but a vast expanse of snow below though, and her stomach sunk, threatening to upset her meager meal.  “No, no…”

“Leliana, we must continue to move.”  Cassandra, stubbornly standing next to her, laid a hand on her arm and ducked her head to catch her eyes.  “We cannot afford to stay here, we are not prepared to stay outside for long.”  The warrior’s amber eyes cast over the haggard defenders and survivors of the attack, all in some state of shock and many injured to some extent.  In their frantic flight, only weapons and goods easily accessed had been taken, and the warmth offered by the scarce cloaks and blankets that were saved were being dispersed among the young and infirm.  “She will be fine, I am sure she is not far behind us.” 

Despite her sure tone, worry filled Cassandra’s eyes, and Leliana eyed her balefully, unswayed by the warrior’s resolve.  “You cannot know that, Cassandra.”

“No, but I trust her.”  

Leliana scoffed but slowly began walking again, bearing Cassandra’s weight as she swayed on her feet.  “Trust will not guarantee her safety, surely you are aware of that.”

“Yes, I am not some naïve youth, Leliana.  But she is a Trevelyan, who are known for their…stubbornness…as well, she is aware of what I would do should she hurt you.”  Cassandra glanced in the redhead’s direction, watching her jaw jump and her eyes well up with tears she brutally beat back.  “I remember you telling me that you had dalliances with the Hero when you fought the Blight; you surely did not pine and worry as you do now when she was off in the midst of some battle?”

“Of course not…I was with Mahariel in every battle.  We trusted each other implicitly.”  Leliana’s voice grew soft as she thought of the diminutive Dalish archer she’d befriended in Lothering all those years ago and who she only intermittently heard from now as the elf searched for a cure to the Calling. 

Her reverie was interrupted by Cassandra as she squeezed her shoulder companionably.  “Then trust Quinn; she is as durable as any warrior I have ever met, and twice as stubborn as a wyvern.  Trust she will return to us.”

“I will try.”

~~~~~~

Quinn cursed as she stumbled once more and her ankle throbbed wickedly.  “Bloody tunnels with their bloody rocks in the middle of the bloody path…Maker _sod it_ ,” she yelped as her dislocated shoulder jolted against an outcropping of stone that she hadn’t seen until she was on top of it.  She clenched her teeth against the ache in her limbs and the numbing cold that was fast creeping beneath her armor and clothes.  “Keep moving, Trevelyan…” 

The tunnels seemed endless, although her path was fairly linear as any branches she came upon were blocked with collapses.  She froze as she heard a quiet shuffle in the darkness ahead of her and trapped the faint glow of her mark against her breastplate, tiptoeing closer as quietly as she could while still keeping most of her weight off her ankle.  She cursed the day she arrived at the Conclave when she came into contact with the first enemies, barely having time to awkwardly draw her zweihander and block a vicious strike with her non-dominant right hand, staggering and crying out as her bad ankle rolled again.  Gleaming eyes glared malevolently at her through the darkness and Quinn straightened her stance, baring her teeth in a snarl.  “Come get me, you bastards.”

~~~~~~

Leliana carefully set Cassandra on the upturned log by the smoldering fire.  The warrior watched as she immediately began pacing, hood drawn up against the wind and prying eyes.  “You will tire yourself out and be no good if you continue that, Leliana.”

“I can do nothing else, Cassandra.  I am too…”  With a discontent grumble, Leliana threw herself onto the rock next to Cassandra, staring morosely into the fire.  “I do not like being uninformed, and here, I am cut off from every avenue of information I have.  I can send no ravens, all of my scouts are looking for shelter, and the Chargers have yet to return from their trek back down the mountain to search for Qui…Quinn.” 

Cassandra barely caught the faint tremble in Leliana’s voice and leaned in under the guise of seeking warmth to curl her arm around the spymaster’s waist, dragging her closer and turning her head to whisper against the delicate line of her jaw.  “It is okay to feel afraid for her.  You are not weak for your feelings; you will not break under them.”  Leliana stared at her wide eyed and Cassandra smiled faintly.  “You are not the only one Trevelyan has gotten close to these past months.  The fact that we have not yet found her, or her…it worries me.” 

Neither approached the subject that they may very well be looking for a corpse, instead holding onto the hope that the Herald would pull another miraculous win out of her tunic sleeves.  They sat silently by the fire until the meager light faded and snow began falling gently on the mountainside.  The various campfires dotting the landscape provided beacons by which they saw healers and able bodied men and women patrolling the fringes of the camp, as well as the many invalids that stared lifelessly over the blanket of snow. 

Cassandra, lulled by the warmth of the fire and Leliana’s close presence, startled when the spymaster suddenly stood and moved toward her tent.  She followed the redhead with her eyes, then stood herself and gingerly walked over when there was no movement from within for many minutes.  She silently pulled aside the canvas flap and paused in the open portal.  Leliana was kneeling, hands pressed against her forehead and quiet, soft words barely audible over the sounds of camp.  “You are praying?”  The warrior disliked interrupting others’ in their prayers, but the sight was so unusual to see in Leliana that she couldn’t help it. 

The words ceased immediately but Leliana didn’t move, barely moving her head to address Cassandra.  “What else can I do?” 

Her tone was lost, bleak, and Cassandra let the flap fall behind her as she entered the small space.  She knelt beside Leliana and grasped her closest hand, twining their fingers together.  “Do not lose hope, Leliana.”  Watery blue eyes hesitantly met hers and a tear fell from her lash, tracking a pale line down the washed out color of her cheek.  Leliana bowed her head and Cassandra followed suit, pressing her free hand against her knee as their shared words filled the tent and the space between them.

~~~~~~

Quinn stumbled once more in the furious wind that buffeted her relentlessly, using her zweihander as a stabilizer in the gale.  The snow pelted her, bitter, pointed shards of ice that chafed her skin and opened cuts on her chapped lips.  She staggered through a deep drift, unable to feel her toes but stubbornly refusing to stop moving as she knew she would never begin again otherwise.  She slitted her eyes against the storm, trying futilely to find anything in the monotonous whiteout, and froze when she saw a bouncing light flicker in the distance.  She shook her head and nearly fell over as her vision swam, barely catching herself against her weapon, and squinted her eyes again. 

“No…”  Her eyes widened as the light, instead of disappearing as she expected it to, only grew larger and less abstract.  A smile ghosted across her bloody lips when a body coalesced out of the blizzard, a welcomingly familiar horned head solidifying before her eyes.  “You great horned bastard…”  She swore she saw the pointed ears perk before the figure suddenly darted through the deep snow toward her, the Iron Bull’s fearful gaze cutting through her.  “Knew you would find me…”  Quinn felt her legs give out, her vision tilted, and then she was suddenly aloft, warm but frozen at the same time as Bull wrapped his great girth and cloak around her. 

“Boss…Boss, do not dare die on me!-” 

Quinn rasped, “Cannot kill me that easy, you know that.”

“Yeah, yeah, but this is the closest I have seen you come.  Krem!  _Krem!_ ” 

Moments later, Krem, tethered to the others in the company, appeared out of the snow and his eyes widened when he saw the nearly comatose Herald in Bull’s arms.  “She alive?”

“Barely.  Run back to camp, tell the Nightingale and Seeker, but no one else.”  Krem nodded and the rest of the company disappeared once more.  Quinn, nearly asleep, jerked when one of Bull’s fingers jabbed her none-too-gently in the joint between her breastplate and chainmail skirt.  “Do not _dare_ fall asleep, Boss.” 

Quinn glared as mightily as she could – Bull’s only reaction was to smirk – and said, “I have been walking for who knows how sodding long, you bastard-”

“And I will make you walk again if you shut your eyes on me.”

“Wan’ta see you do what I did with my injuries!” 

The Iron Bull chuckled, a rumbling sound like boulders that echoed against Quinn’s ear, and picked up the pace.  “Bet they are not as bad as you say.  You humans are all pussies.”  Quinn struggled in his grasp, gasping as her dislocated shoulder complained vehemently and her other myriad injuries echoed after.  “There you go, get angry, Boss.  Angry is good, it keeps you alive.”

~~~~~~

Leliana and Cassandra were sitting silently side by side in their tent when Krem suddenly burst in, wild eyed and snow covering his cloak and hair.  “Sister – Sister Nightingale, begging your pardon!”  He bent double and gasped for air as the two women stared, holding up a hand when Cassandra opened her mouth.  “We – we found her.  She is alive.” 

Leliana’s hand found Cassandra’s and squeezed tightly, a tremulous smile crossing her lips as she gracefully stood and pulled the warrior up with her.  “Bull is bringing her back, he told us to run and find you, and the Seeker.”  Krem nodded at Cassandra.  “He said ‘no one else,’ so I told you, now I am going to find blankets for the Herald.”

“Thank you, Kremesius.”  Cassandra dismissed the Vint, who quickly disappeared, and turned her amber gaze on Leliana. 

Blue eyes, wide with hope and fear, found her gaze and the hand in hers tightened again.  “Is it true?”

“Let us find out.”  Cassandra refused to let the fear in her chest seep into her tone as she pulled Leliana out of the tent and toward the edge of camp.  They stood silently together, keeping vigil in the storm that hit not long after they had begun to pray, until Leliana’s sharp eyes spied a shadow that didn’t belong amongst the shifting snow.  She took a couple steps, finding her progress halted by the hand on her shoulder. 

“Cassandra…” 

The warrior tightened her grip, forcing Leliana to remain in place as the Bull materialized out of the snow.  He carried a limp form in his arms, head tilted down toward the bundle and lips barely moving.  As he came closer, they heard him speaking quietly.  “There you go, Boss, c’mon…yes, I know, you humans all complain about the littlest things…” 

They heard Quinn’s response only because of how close they had drawn, and the weakness in her voice startled them both.  “Great horned asshole…still kick your ass any day…” 

Bull rumbled a laugh, although his eyes were dilated with fear as he saw the women on the edge of camp.  “You can try, Boss.”  He didn’t stop when he reached them, only jerked his head toward camp, and Leliana led them toward the tent she shared with Cassandra.  She and the warrior wrestled Quinn’s limp form out of Bull’s arms when they were outside the canvas, disappearing with a curt nod at the Qunari. 

Within, Leliana’s hands fluttered efficiently over the prostrate body, yanking buckles apart and removing the damaged armor with jerky movements.  Cassandra knelt on the other side and began taking off Quinn’s greaves and pauldron, lips thinning when she saw how damaged the links in the chain beneath her armor were and the specks of blood she could see in the tears of the metal.  “Leliana.”

“I know.”  Leliana’s voice was tight as she continued disrobing Quinn, ignoring the scrape of metal on metal as she yanked the bracer off the warrior’s arm and eased the chainmail over her head.  Cassandra held Quinn upright while Leliana maneuvered the soaked tunic beneath off her torso, then laid her back down after her breastband was unwound.  Neither spared a second look at her bared upper body, focusing on the immediate concern of the bluish hue of her skin and the streaks of blood that were crusted over her sides. 

“We need to get her warm before we bandage her wounds.”

“I am aware of what to do with someone with hypothermia, Cassandra,” Leliana bit out. 

Cassandra laid her hand over Leliana’s and waited for her to meet her eyes.  “Rushing will do her no good, do you understand?  Put your fears aside and do what you can to help her.  Help me get her pants off, and then we shall warm her up.”  The explicit instructions gave Leliana focus, and she unlaced Quinn’s pants, peeling them away from her skin to find more frostbitten flesh.  

The warrior laid bare before them, skin so pale they could see the veins beneath, and her extremities had turned blue.  Wordlessly, they both disrobed until they were down to their smallclothes and cocooned Quinn between them.  Cassandra pulled the multitude of furs they had gathered over their bodies and met blue eyes over Quinn’s head.  “This brings back memories, does it not?”  She purposefully kept her tone light as her hand reached over Quinn’s stomach to catch Leliana’s arm.  “The week we both spent on the shore of the Waking Sea in the middle of the winter…” 

Despite her worry, Leliana’s eyes creased in humor and her arm twisted in Cassandra’s to grasp her wrist, fingers dancing over the sensitive skin near her palm.  “You mean the day you decided to take a dip in the ocean and nearly caught your death of cold?  Maker, that was an interesting few days.” 

Her eyes danced wickedly and Cassandra smiled crookedly before schooling her expression to one of disdain.  “I did not _decide_ to end up in the ocean, _someone_ thought it would be funny to push me in!”

“You had been sprayed by a skunk after stumbling upon it the day before, what was I to do?”  Leliana’s shoulders shifted in an awkward shrug, although her lopsided grin remained.  “I did not want to remain around the stench, and besides, it would have tipped off the men we were tracking.  I could smell you even over _their_ odor!”

“That was no reason to trip me into the surf, Leliana.”  Cassandra rolled her eyes. 

“I disagree, and it _did_ end up with us in bed together.”  The coquettish wink Leliana threw at her quickly dissolved and worry returned to blue eyes.  The redhead looked down at Quinn’s face, cradled against her shoulder, and carded her fingers through her damp hair, gently pushing strands away from her face.  “She is so much colder than you were, Cassandra.” 

Cassandra pushed closer to Quinn’s back, beginning to rub the warrior’s skin vigorously to warm it further.  “She is just as stubborn as I, remember that.  She has not lived this long just to succumb to cold feet.”

“I hope you are right.”

“Keep your faith, Leliana.  You have just rediscovered it; do not let it fade again now.  Were your prayers not answered?”

“I do not yet know.  Ask me again when her eyes open, and perhaps I will have an answer.”

~~~~~~

Snippets of sound floated between her ears like a whisper, a menagerie of voices that blurred together until her head pounded.  Hazel eyes, disoriented and unable to focus, bounced aimlessly around the blurry tent.  She felt overly warm, but was unable to move her arms to remove the furs.  Her brows furrowed as she felt three hands on her body; two draped over her abdomen while another was tangled in her hair possessively.  Similarly, two sets of legs were tangled with hers, warm toes sandwiched between her calf and the furs beneath her – _bare_ – skin.  She gingerly turned her head to one side and waited for her vision to come into focus, blinking incomprehensibly as dark, short hair came into view, followed by an unusually serene expression and scarred cheek. 

Eyebrow rising curiously, she looked the other way and was confronted with ruffled red tresses spread messily over her shoulder.  Warm breath regularly ghosted over her clavicle and she was certain that, if she was able to move, she would find long, dark lashes framing closed eyes and an elegant nose that wrinkled occasionally in sleep.  “Leli…”  Her voice rasped inaudibly as her lips formed the name, and she winced as the cracks reopened and the faint tang of copper filled her mouth.  She licked her lips and gingerly flexed her fingers, feeling bandaging beneath her hands that lay against her hips. 

A memory of being clawed by one of the despair demons during her desperate fight in the tunnel came to mind, and she slowly catalogued her other aches as they made themselves known.  So absorbed was she with the heavy ache that resided in her left arm that she startled when a warm, calloused hand cupped her cheek and turned her head aside.  “Quinn…”  Blue eyes bright with relief bored into her gaze, then her sight was filled with fiery hair and she wheezed as her breath was stolen in an immense hug.  “Thank the Maker.”

“It is good to see your eyes open, my friend.”  Another hand rested gently against her shoulder, and Quinn groped blindly until she grasped Cassandra’s hand, squeezing thankfully.  “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was run over by a bronto and then left to lie in the snow for a few days.”

“Thankfully, that was not the case,” Cassandra said dryly, “Instead, you had tons of snow and rock fall on your head and, by the looks of your wounds, were in a fight before Bull found you.”

Leliana reluctantly pulled away to regard the warrior critically, her previously elated expression suddenly serious and foreboding.  “What were you thinking?”

“Leliana, I am not sure this is-”

“No, I _need_ to know.  What in the bloody _world_ caused you to think that doing something that – that _stupid_ , and _utterly asinine_ , would be a good thing?” 

Quinn laid flat on her back and beseeched Cassandra with pleading eyes.  The warrior only smirked and laid back beside her, uncharacteristically relaxed, shutting her eyes and, subsequently, missing the annoyed expression that passed over Quinn’s face.  She resigned herself to facing down Leliana, facing her again with a small sigh.  “I _thought_ everyone would live, and if my life was the price, I would gladly pay it.”

“You do not understand-”

“I _understand_ that I was the only one left who could defend against the Elder One, and I took the chance that I may not live to ensure your survival.” 

Quinn’s voice was hard, unyielding, but Leliana faced her down fearlessly.  “Be that as it may, you cannot continue to put yourself in harm’s way for your men.  They know the risk of riding with the Inquisition-”

“I swear we have had this conversation before.” 

Quinn’s eyes blazed and Leliana rolled hers.  “Yes, and I remember the outcome of that particular conversation as well.  I will not cede this to you, I _will not_ let you die before the world is put to rights.  You are more important than you know, Quinn.”

“To the Inquisition?  I am naught but a weapon, to be discarded once my purpose is complete.”  Quinn scoffed and turned her head away, avoiding Cassandra’s amber gaze as the Seeker opened her eyes. 

“Yes, to the Inquisition.  You are the only one who can right the wrongs the Elder One has wrought, with your allies and soldiers at your side.  But also,” Leliana rested her hand on Quinn’s shoulder but the warrior refused to turn to her, “to your friends.  Your companions, your advisors, they all care about you deeply.”

“All?”  Quinn hesitantly glanced aside at Leliana.  “You must be mistaken.”

“No, I am not,” Leliana said softly.  She leaned over and cupped the warrior’s cheek, coaxing her to meet her eyes.  “I am serious, I am sincere with these words.  We _all_ care for you, and I…I care, most of all.”  She gently pressed her lips to Quinn’s, closing her eyes and barely daring to breath before pulling away.  “When you feel up to it, come outside.  We need to decide where we go from here.”  Leliana gracefully disentangled herself and quickly clothed herself, slipping out of the tent without another word.  Quinn watched the canvas sway, cold sunlit air rousing her further and making her shiver. 

To her other side, Cassandra stretched briefly and then stood, drawing her breeches up her legs.  “Take your time, we will wait for you.”  After she pulled her tunic and tabard over her head, she pulled her sword belt around her hips and fastened a cloak at her throat.  “I am glad you yet live…Quinn, we were all worried sick.  Leliana most of all.”  An enigmatic smile played about her lips before she disappeared and left Quinn lying in the tent, staring at the sunlight brightening the canvas with a contemplative frown on her lips. 

She slowly sat up, grumbling to herself as her body complained about the movement, and set to dressing herself, cursing quietly as her left arm refused to lift higher than mid-chest.  She struggled into her tunic and glanced balefully at her armor before forgoing it completely and arming herself with her zweihander and several small daggers at her waist.  Fastening her cloak around her shoulders, she limped out of the tent and into the deceptively bright but cold morning.  Her advisors were standing around a fire, talking amongst each other, and Leliana was the first to notice her.  She smiled a little, secretive smile that barely curled the edges of her lips but warmed her blue eyes immeasurably. 

“Your Grace, you are finally up.”  Her tone was teasing as she walked over to Quinn and offered her elbow to escort her to the fire.  Cullen nodded, hands on the pommel of his weapon and a contemplative frown on his lips, and Josephine visibly relaxed, a relieved smile creasing her face. 

She embraced Quinn happily and squeezed as tightly as her slight frame allowed.  “Oh, I am glad to see you up and about!  You had us all terribly worried!”  Josephine seemed to realize how close she was to Quinn and the smirk dancing on Leliana’s lips and removed herself from the warrior’s personal space with a blush. 

Quinn accepted the bowl of hot broth Cassandra held out gratefully, taking a tentative sip and humming happily as warmth rushed down her throat into her empty stomach.  “What have I missed,” she asked between sips, picking a thick piece of bread up and dipping it into the broth before taking a seat on an overturned bucket.  “How is everyone else?”

“Your companions are, more or less, in one piece,” Cassandra began, “although there was an…incident…between Cole and Sera yesterday.  Something about needles and her boots.  She threatened bodily harm with one of her arrows if he did anything again.”  The Seeker shook her head, standing off to the side and staring out over the sea of tents contemplatively. 

Quinn turned her attention to the soldiers and workers that dotted the landscape, noting sadly how many fewer there were than had been in Haven.  “How many did we lose?”

“The number of casualties was…significantly less than we feared.”  Josephine spoke up with an optomistic lilt in her voice.  “We have their survival…all our lives, in fact, owed to you.  If you had not distracted the dragon and that creature…”  She shuddered and rubbed her arms over her cloak, thin gloves protecting her hands from the frigid mountain breeze.  “Although we did lose several score of soldiers, as well as a few dozen workers and pilgrims, the number of those saved…well, you see.”  She gestured at the mountainside at large, a faint smile lifting her lips. 

“And those who did survive, where are we to take them now?  We are in the middle of the Frostbacks, surrounded by mountains, with little in way of provisions or arms.”  Quinn set the empty bowl at her feet and massaged her temples.  She wracked her brain, trying to imagine the map that spanned the scarred table in Haven, the mountain range they were currently nestled somewhere in the middle of. 

“Actually…”  Quinn turned to find Solas standing stiffly behind her, fingering his staff anxiously.  “I may be able to help with that.  Walk with me, Herald?”

“I think I am comfortable here, if you do not mind.  You can share with us all, Solas.” 

The man frowned and stared at her for several long moments before sighing and taking a short step forward.  “Send scouts north.  There, you will find a place the Inquisition can settle, and grow.  It should be safe for your fledgling organization.”

“How do you kn-”  Solas turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Quinn feeling frustrated and confused, a bad combination when she was still sore and stiff from the last couple days.  “Fine, whatever, I did not want to know how you knew that anyway,” she muttered. 

Leliana squeezed her shoulder as she walked past and stood in front of the fire, hands cupping her elbows as her arms crossed over her chest.  “I will send a couple scouts north, as he suggested, and we will wait here until they return.”

“We have no other recourse; send your fastest, Nightingale.” 

Cullen nodded at the spymaster and departed, posture and gait military stiff even in the snow drifts, and Josephine shook her head.  “He is feeling helpless because there is not a clear enemy before him.  Do not pay his temper any mind, Herald.”

“I take no offense, Josephine, I am at my wit’s end as well, and I have not been awake nearly as long as he, or any of you, I think.”  Quinn offered a rueful smile as Josephine hugged her side and trailed off toward a larger tent where several guards were standing at the tent poles protectively.  Quinn let her shoulders drop after they were out of sight and leaned into Leliana heavily, dropping her head forward tiredly. 

“Are you alright?”

“Tired, oddly enough.  You would think that with all the sleeping I have done these past couple days I would feel energized.”  She shook her head and rubbed the back of her neck, rolling the joint to ease the stiffness there, freezing when dexterous fingers pushed her hand away and began kneading the joint.  She groaned and her eyes fluttered shut, swaying into Leliana and moaning quietly as the pressure was slowly relieved. 

“Should I leave you two alone, or do you _want_ me to watch this…tryst, occur?”  Cassandra’s tone was caught between amused and wary as she watched the warrior slump further and her vocalizations grew more intense. 

Leliana’s gaze sparkled with mischief and she moved completely behind Quinn, pressing both thumbs against the nape of Quinn’s neck.  The warrior gasped and rumbled a moan deep in her throat, fingers flexing against her breeches restlessly.  “Stay if you wish, Cassandra,” Leliana said coyly, “I do not think Quinn would mind your company in the future.”  She kneaded the warrior’s shoulders deeply, reveling in the content noises Quinn was making and the flush overtaking scarred cheeks.  Cassandra stood in dumbfounded shock until Quinn gasped Leliana’s name when the redhead massaged a particularly sore area and then beat a fast retreat, face flaming with embarrassment.  Leliana watched her go with a mischievous twinkle, lightening her grip until she was only pressing her palms against Quinn’s shoulders without movement.  “Quinn?”

“Hmmm?”

“Would you care to retire to your tent?  You are still recovering, and I need to dispatch several scouts as Solas suggested.”

“That sounds great.”  Quinn stood on shaky knees, accepting Leliana’s arm again as they walked to the tent.  “Will you…come to me when you are done?”

“If that is what you wish.”

“I do.”  

Quinn brushed back a strand of hair from Leliana’s brow and ducked inside the tent, leaving the redhead staring at the empty space.  She smiled in the shaded protection of her cowl and stepped away, leaving shallow impressions in the snow as she searched for her spies and gave them their directive.  Returning to the tent flap, she hesitated momentarily at the absence of sound from within before pushing aside the canvas and ducking inside.  She found Quinn stretched out of her stomach, ruined armor now set neatly beside the cot and cloak draped over the other set of bedding.  Her back moved beneath the furs with each deep, even breath, and Leliana found herself matching the cadence as she slipped out of her boots and unclasped her cloak.  Her belt came off next, then the myriad weapons hidden under her clothes.  She fingered the hem of her breeches, toying with the laces as she stared down at Quinn. 

“Stop thinking, Leliana.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was, but I can hear your brain working from over here.”  Quinn blindly patted the empty space beside her and turned onto her back, finally opening her eyes to focus on the redhead.  “Do you plan on sleeping standing up?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can see the shadows under your eyes, Leliana.”  Quinn brushed a thumb beneath her own eye and canted a brow.  “Lay with me, it will be warmer with two of us.” 

Leliana hesitated another moment, then unlaced her breeches and let them drop onto the unoccupied cot, next pulling her tabard and tunic over her head.  She slid beneath the furs next to Quinn and faced her silently.  “What are you thinking about,” Quinn asked quietly, breath warming the air between them. 

“I am worried about where we will go from here,” Leliana replied truthfully.  “I am afraid this victory by this Elder One – Corypheus – will signify the end of the Inquisition before it can truly begin, that people will be more scared of him than they will be courageous and help us.” 

Quinn’s hand found hers beneath the furs, calloused fingertips sliding over her knuckles.  She rubbed a small circle with her thumb over the knob of her wrist, watching blue eyes soften slightly.  “I will not let him win so easily, Leliana.  I will fight him by myself if that is what this war calls for.  But, it will not come to that.  I have my friends at my side, my advisors to keep me on the straight and narrow, and with the mages at my back, I will beat him.”

“I think it is less about our new allies, and more about luck, at this point.” 

Quinn shrugged one shoulder, sliding closer to slip a hand over the dip of Leliana’s waist.  Her fingers scratched lightly at the small of her back, alternately sending tingles above and below Leliana’s waist.  “There is little difference, I think.  Whether it is through the mages, Andraste, or my own good fortune, I will see this through to the end.  With you at my side, how can I lose?”

“How can you be certain you will win?”  Leliana’s heart beat a staccato tattoo behind her breast, breath catching in her chest as Quinn nudged her chin up and ghosted her lips over her throat. 

“I have more than this world to fight for now.” 

Any response was cut off as Quinn attached first lips, then teeth, to her skin, nibbling and scraping lightly down to Leliana’s clavicle.  Her hand traced nonsensical patterns up the redhead’s spine, pausing at the first knot of skin that wasn’t natural. 

Leliana froze at the same time, her heart racing for an entirely different reason, and her eyes darted away from Quinn’s when the warrior tried to catch her gaze.  “I am not…whole.  I am sorry if they repulse you…” 

Quinn’s grip tightened unexpectedly and Leliana gasped, blue eyes flashing up to Quinn’s resolved gaze.  “That is absurd,” she said assuredly, hand moving once again.  It slowly covered the mass of scars that decorated Leliana’s back and hazel eyes carefully watched Leliana’s expression for any sign of unease.  “I told you, a long time ago,” she whispered, kissing Leliana’s cheek, then her nose, then her chin, “that I would not wish my scars away, that they were proof of my life and deeds.  I would ask you now; would you erase these memories, given the chance?”  Her hand continued to run along Leliana’s lower back, dipping beneath her breastband to trace the marks from end to end, as hazel eyes steadily stared through the redhead. 

“No,” she eventually answered, guiding Quinn’s hand to the end of the breastband that was tucked in on her side and waiting with bated breath at the cloth was slowly unraveled, “I would not.  They have led me to my purpose in this world.  I saved Thedas from the Blight, I was at Cassandra’s side when Kirkwall burned, I helped Justinia…I found my way to your side.”  Her breath stuttered when Quinn urged her onto her elbow briefly, dragging the cloth of her band from under her, and cupped a hand just beneath her breast, feeling her ribs and the faint swell of her abdomen under her palm.  “If I had not gone through what I did, I would not have done all that I have.”

“I am glad.”  Quinn pressed her lips against Leliana’s, sliding her hand up at the same time, and smiled as the redhead gasped against her mouth.  “I am happy your life has led you to this point, my dear Nightingale.”  Her mouth covered Leliana’s again, and they lost themselves in each other, forgetting the world and the troubles without for a time.

~~~~~~

“Your Grace, the scouts have returned, they bring news of – oh, _dammit_ , why do you not _warn_ me?!”  Cassandra froze just inside the tent flap, eyes wide as she stared at the scene before her.  Quinn lay half atop Leliana, the furs only just covering her hips, so disturbed they had become since they lay down.  Quinn’s hair was out of its customary braid and tellingly disheveled, faint red marks mingling with the lingering bruises that covered her back. 

Leliana stared contentedly at the Seeker, eyes lidded and one of her hands stroking the warrior’s side slowly.  “You know,” she said lazily, accent more pronounced and curling deliciously around the letters, “you should really learn to announce yourself, Cassandra.  One would think you were _hoping_ to walk in on something, the way you strode in with such confidence.”  Her eyes danced and Cassandra felt her cheeks heat once more, damning evidence that was compounded by Quinn’s deep chuckle. 

The warrior pinched Leliana’s hip, gently disentangling herself and standing, stretching with a content groan.  Cassandra finally averted her eyes, but not before catching a glimpse of more scratches and suspiciously circular bruises that lined Quinn’s hip and thigh.  “You bring news?”  Hazel eyes were equally amused as Quinn pulled her smallclothes on and clothed herself, staring down the Seeker. 

“I – ahm, yes, the scouts – they found something, several hours march north of here.”  Cassandra barely met either woman’s gaze, steadfastly keeping her eyes trained on the floor of the tent and her scuffed boots.  She heard the rustle of furs and calloused fingers tipped her head up. 

“Thank you, my friend.”  Quinn smiled as she turned Cassandra around and gently pushed her toward the canvas flap.  “Now, unless you want a show, you may want to leave, Seeker.”  Cassandra stumbled out of the tent and willed her skin to return to its normal coloring, waiting for the warrior and spymaster to step out with impatience and not a little bit of lingering consternation.  When the women stepped out, they wore matching smirks and their fingers were just brushing against each other’s hands. 

Cassandra shook her head as she walked beside them, speaking as they drew closer to the excited crowd in the middle of camp.  “They returned not long ago, they bring news of an incredible structure that can house the entirety of the Inquisition, with room to grow.”

“Well, that _is_ good news, is it not?  Let us see what they have to say, and then we shall decide from there.”

~~~~~~

“Wow.”

“It is _magnificent_ , is it not?” 

Quinn stood at the top of the ridge, watching the straggling forces of the Inquisition walk through the gates of the massive fort.  Leliana stood at her side, the brisk mountain breeze ruffling her hair and sending a whirl of snow adrift at their feet.  “Solas was right, as usual.  I wonder how he knew about this place, though.  It looks as though it has been abandoned for a long time.  Maybe he spoke to some spirits in the Fade?”

“I was curious, myself, but I think right now, we should not question our good luck.”  She squeezed the gauntleted hand in her hers and tugged gently, leading them with a still slightly uneven gait down the path toward the stone bridge as the last people disappeared through the dilapidated gates.  “I do not know what the future will bring, but I will not stop fighting for the best one, not until my last breath.”

“Let us hope it does not have to come to that, Quinn.”  Leliana smiled and pulled Quinn to a halt at the bottom of the ridge, just out of sight of the bridge behind an outcropping of rock.  She walked the warrior backwards until her back made contact with the stone and pressed herself against her front, trapping Quinn with her pressed to the stone on either side of her shoulders.  “I plan for you to live to a ripe age, there is no room for dying.”

“Oh, is that so?” 

Leliana nodded sagely.  “It is.  I will move heaven and earth for you, I will defy Gods and mortals alike without fear, but I refuse to release you to the Maker’s side before you have lived your life to the fullest.”

“Well, if you insist, I suppose I must obey.”  Quinn’s gloved hand curled around Leliana’s hip, drawing her up into a kiss. 

They parted when they heard boots crunching on gravel, and broke into laughter as a disgruntled snort announced the arrival of Cassandra.  “ _Must_ you do this where I will walk in on you?” 

Quinn watched her throw her arms up in defeat and smirked, plucking at Leliana’s tabard lazily.  “We could send an invitation to you instead, if that would make you feel better.” 

Cassandra sputtered and her dark skin flushed as Leliana laughed musically, tucking her nose against Quinn’s shoulder as her shoulders shook with mirth.  When they finally calmed down, Cassandra had composed herself and was standing with arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently on the rough hewn steps.  “If you are quite done…”

“We are just getting started, Cassandra, but for now, yes, we are done.”  Leliana looked at Quinn, who nodded, and then led her past the Seeker.  “I believe we have some work to do.  Let us begin, yes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, shoot me a note if you have a prompt for me!


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